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SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


BY 

S.  A.  BEADLE. 


Copyrighted  1899 
By  Samuel  Alfred  Beadle. 


Published  by 
Scroll  Publishing  6  Literary  Syndicate 
Chicago 


DEDICATION. 

IT  is,  I  believe,  customary  to  dedicate  one's  work  to  a 
patron.  I  suppose  one's  friend  miglitwith  as  much 
grace  bear  the  burden.  When  I  remember  the  en- 
thusiasm with  which  my  friend  always  espouses 
my  cause,  and  how  tenaciously  she  clings  to  the  few 
virtues  I  have,  and  how  blind  she  is  to  my  innumerable 
faults,  I  have  no  forbodings  of  evil  when  I  approach  her. 
To  her,  Aurelia  W.  Beadle,  the  wife  of  my  youth,  this 
poor  memento  of  my  faith  is  sincerely  inscribed  by 

The  Authoe. 


I. 


CONTENTS 

Abclucti  jn  and  Rape  of  Themis,  The 
After  Church, 
Afterward, 
Age's  Rejoinder, 
Biographia, 
Blue  Corner, 
Castle  Builders, 
Ella's  Dance, 
Fate  of  All,  The  . 
Flora, 

Glory  of  a  Horse  Trade,  The 
Golden  Rod,  The 
I  Care  Not  for  the  Miser's  Gold, 
Ida, 

Impromptu, 
Innocence  Asleep, 
Joe's  Farm, 

Lines  on  the  Death  of  a  Friend, 

Lines  to  Mr.   , 

Lines  Suggested  by  the  Assaults  Made  on  the  Negro 
Locomotion  on  Corks, 
Mangled  Reflection,  A 
Mary  Jane's  Bright  Eye, 
Message  to  Janette, 
Music  of  the  Rain,  The 
My  List  of  Beautiful  Things, 
My  Prayer, 
My  Suburban  Girl, 
My  Wish, 

Nannie  is  a  Bonny  Maid, 
Nuptial  Ties, 
Pyramid,  The, 
Rape  of  the  Flowers,  The 
Sonnets  to  My  Love, 
Southern  Girl,  The 
Strike  for  Equal  Rights, 
To  a  Flower  on  a  Corpse, 
To  a  Jilt,  "  . 

To  a  Daisy, 
Two  Hearts  for  One, 
While  the  Waltz  is  On, 
Words, 

Yellow  Jack  of '97, 
Youth's  Home  and  Mother, 


Troops 


75 
39 
90 

91 
83 
43 
35 
70 
61 

71 
26 
1 1 1 

34 
103 

7 

116 
37 
41 
99 
63 
92 

119 
14 
65 

1 02 

64 

73 
68 
24 

72 
1 04 

36 
117 

15 
69 
100 
118 
62 
60 
9 

lOI 

40 
112 
115 


534811^ 


PREFACE. 


80ME  years  ago  I  was  wandering  about  the  waste 
places,  thoroughfares  and  by-ways  of  a  beautiful 
country 

"Where  the  cypress  and  myrtle, 
Are  emblems  of  deeds  that  are  done  in  their  clime; 
Where  the  rage  of  the  vulture,  the  love  of  the  turtle 
Now  melt  into  sorrow,  now  madden  to  crime;'' 

and,  as  I  was  passing,  I  wrote  a  few  simple  sketches  of 
the  things  that  impressed  me. 

This  land  is  commonly  known  as  the  Sunny  South 
and  is  sometimes  called  "Dixie;"  for  this  reason  I  call 
them  Sketches  froiu  Life  in  Dixie. 

Night  before  last  I  bundled  them  together,  and  sat 
down  to  admire  the  children  of  my  fancy.  No  mother 
ever  hung  over  the  cradle  of  her  first  born  with  such  de- 
light as  I  did  over  them.  For  once  these  sketches  had 
an  audience;  the  universe  was  my  theatre  and  my  imag- 
ination filled  it  to  the  outer  limits  with  eager  listeners. 
I  sat  reading  to  them,  far  into  the  wee  sma'  hours  of  the 
night,  till  the  absence  of  applause  brought  me  to  my 
senses,  and  I  stopped  to  hear  the  clock  on  the  stroke  of 
two.  About  this  time  Benjamin  Beaumont  came  into 
my  room,  slapped  me  playfully  on  the  shoulder,  and  said, 
"Sol,  why  don't  you  bring  this  thing  to  an  end?  Write 
a  preface  and  an  advertisement  for  your  book,  publish  it, 
and  put  it  on  the  market.  There  are  some  good  things 
in  it." 

This  disposed  of  my  fancy;  and  brought  me.  for  the 
first  time  in  my  life,  down  to  real  thought,  for  if  there 
is  anything  that  requires  thought  it  is  the  ijreface  of  a 


VI 


PREFACE. 


book.  You  may  tip  the  jDinions  of  your  fancy  with  fic- 
tion, and  let  it  flit  aimlessly  about  the  inner  pages  of 
your  book  if  you  will;  but  when  it  comes  to  writing  the 
last  page  of  it,  and  tacking  it  to  the  front,  and  calling  it 
a  preface,  I  should  like  to  see  you  escape  the  thoughts 
of  the  critic.  This  thought  murdered  my  fancy,  and 
my  audience  vanished  —only  three  of  us  remained,  the 
Reviewer,  the  Critic,  and  I.  For  us  a  short  preface  will 
do;  in  short,  since  I  come  to  think  of  it,  the  writing  of 
the  thing  is  a  waste  of  energy ;  so  I  will  put  it  off  till  an- 
other time  and  content  myself  with  telling  the  simple 
truth,  SkefcJies  from  Life  in  Di.ric  is  but  the  work  of  a 
novice.  He  wrote  them  for  amusement;  and  x^ublishes 
them  at  the  solicitation  of  his  friend  Benjamin  Beau- 
mont. If  they  are  accepted  by  that  vaccillating  thing 
known  as  Public  Opinion,  he  will  be  thankful:  if  they 
are  spurned  by  it,  he  will  not  complain,  for  the  cranky 
old  thing  is  whimsical  anyhow. 

With  patience  I  await  the  end.  and  subscribe  myself 
Yours  truly, 

S.  A.  Beadle. 

Jackson,  Miss.  .  . 


53481^ 


SAMUEL  ALFRED  BEADLE. 


IMPROMPTU. 

ANY  and  many  a  year  ago 

I  lieard  of  those  ancient  rhymers. 
Those  hnilders  of  our  poetic  lore. 
The  u'rand  old  vanished  timers, 
AVere  always  Ixjrn  and  never  made; 
That  they  by  insioiration  bade 
The  enlooies  and  melodies 
From  the  spirit's  emoti(jns  rise, 
Filling  the  earth,  the  air,  the  skies 
AA^ith  l)eings  from  their  paradise. 
Of  estht4ie  thuUiaht  and  rapture. 

Then  the  muses  chased  the  poets  down 

From  infancy  to  lioariness. 
With  the  genius'  protfere-d  crown 

And  surprised  them  in  tludr  idleness 
AA'ith  the  coronation  brilliancy 
Of  sweet  poetic  ecstacy. 
When  the  metrical  song  moved  along 
In  melody's  natural  measure. 
A  radieiit  royal  pleasure. 
Which  the  favored  took  at  leisure 

AVitliout  the  minutest  etfort. 

That  this  is  true  I  sometimes  feel. 

And  write  a  feeble  line  or  two. 
Whene'er  the  muses  o'er  me  steal 

And  I  fain  would  strike  the  lyre  too: 
But  that  "ahvays  born,  never  made." 
From  the  fanciful  tiight  have  stayed. 


8 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


Brilliant  spondee  and  sweet  tonchee, 
Awaiting  the  inspiring  tole, 
To  move  the  music  of  my  soul 
To  the  cadence  of  the  poet's  role,  . 
Of  proficiency  without  toil. 

No,  Nature  has  no  favored  ones, 

All  are  what  themselves  would  be; 
Through  endless  toil  Ambition's  sons 

Adorn  themselves  with  victory: 
So  I  will  write  it,  right  or  wrong, 
Everyone  shall  hear  the  song, 
I  wish  to  sing  of  Evylin; 
The  chaste  and  lovely  Evylin, 
Tho'  all  the  measure  set  therein 
Is  not  what  it  should  have  been. 
To  make  the  Criticaster's  poem. 


TWO  HEARTS  FOR  ONE. 


l^M  ANY  years  ago,  on  a  cold,  drizzly,  freezing  night 
/  ^  I  in  December,  I.  in  company  with  my  friend  Le- 
;  I  grange,  arrived  at  the  home  of  Clarence  Otto. 
L  Dnring  the  whole  of  that  cold,  benumbing  day. 

we  had  urged  our  jaded  horses  along  the  heavy  road,  with 
the  proverbial  hosi^itality  of  Otto  ever  and  anon  looming 
up  before  us,  under  the  activity  of  our  creative  fancy; 
which  bounded  along  before  us  displacing  (_)tto's  open 
fireplace  where  the  hickory  logs  lay  aglow,  while  the 
bleak  wind  without  came  whistling  down  from  the  poles, 
congealing  the  blood  and  leaving  icicles  in  its  path. 

What  is  more  interesting  on  a  cold  winter  night, 
than  that  cheerful  fire  which  ever  glows  on  the  southern 
hearth,  for  the  weary  traveler?  Then  give  me  a  plate  of 
English  walnuts  and  occasional  draughts  of  wine  to  urge 
my  failing  memory  along  that  far  away  receding  path, 
over  which  we  passed  when  youth  was  full  of  adventures, 
and  life  one  endless  dream  of  pleasantries. 

In  due  time  our  fancy  grew  into  reality,  for  Otto  re- 
ceived us  into  his  beautiful  home,  though  now  it  is 
under  the  gloom  of  clouds. 

It  is  a  brilliant  'pen,  indeed,  which  can  describe  the 
joyous  meeting  of  true  friends  long  since  parted.  I  have 
tried  it  a  thousand  times  with  as  many  failures.  To  me 
it  is  an  undiscovered  pleasure.  I  give  it  up  with  regret, 
for  truly  I  would  fain  be  saying  pleasant  things  of  Otto. 
Maybe  I  have  failed  in  this  because  of  the  absense  of 
his  soul  in  his  face,  the  presence  of  which  we  were  only 


10 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


made  aware  of  by  the  prolonged  pressure  of  the  faithful 
hand. 

The  first  greeting  over,  our  horses  fed,  the  sleet  shaken 
from  our  overcoats,  and  our  frozen  hats  hung  in  the  hall- 
way, we  were  moving  with  gleeful  feet  to  the  sitting  room, 
where  an  open  fireplace  lay  smiling  under  the  fervent 
glow  of  a  country  fire,  when  Otto  laid  his  hand  lightly 
on  my  shoulder  and  said,  "Softy,  she  is  dying!"  "Who?" 
w^e  asked  with  respectful  accents;  but  there  was  no  an- 
swer. Otto  had  gone — whither,  we  knew  not.  The  ser- 
vent  showed  us  into  the  sitting  room,  where  intuitively 
we  moved  upon  our  toes,  and  held  our  benumbed  fingers 
to  the  cheerful  blaze. 

The  night  grew  colder;  the  hands  of  the  clock  trem- 
bled on  the  hour  of  twelve,  and  still  we  sat  anxiously 
awaiting  Otto.  Presently  he  came,  with  traces  of  unut- 
terable woe  in  his  features.  His  mind  was  ill  at  ease. 
He  staggered  under  the  awful  burden,  and  fell  upon  Le- 
grange's  shoulder,  crying  aloud,  "She  is  gone,  gone, 
gone!"  Thus  he  wept  until  a  late  hour;  then  fell  asleep, 
overcome  at  last,  by  the  long  and  incessant  watchfulness 
over  the  object  of  his  affections. 

Legrange  watched  over  him,  while  I,  with  the  ser- 
vant, sat  watching  in  the  silent  chamber.  Then,  for  the 
first  time,  the  servant  told  me  the  tragic  story  of  two 
hearts  for  one. 

Said  he:  It  is  as  old  as  the  everlasting  hills,  as  com- 
mon as  the  sunbeams,  and  a  thousand  years  hence  the 
theme  of  it  will  be  as  fascinating  as  was  Eve  when  Adam 
first  beheld  her,  notwithstanding  the  dullness  of  my  own 
narration.  But  you  will  not  divulge  it?  Your  silence 
assures  me  and  I  iDroceed. 

It  was  evening,  and  the  red  star  followed  in  the  wake 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


11 


of  the  new  moon,  as  it  went  gliding  along  the  horizon  to 
the  close  of  its  luminous  way.  In  the  distance  the 
watch-dog  baying  deep-mouthed  bade  adieu  to  the  day. 
Ever  and  anon  the  huntsman's  clarion  horn  called  his 
comrades  to  the  chase.  The  red  fox  heard  the  sound, 
and,  leaping  from  the  farmer's  pig-sty,  licked  its  mouth, 
shook  its  tail  and  struck  a  running  trot  across  the  moor- 
land to  the  hills  beyond. 

Peggy,  the  milk-maid,  came  along  the  lane,  singing 
one  of  those  love  ditties  common  to  girls  of  seventeen 
summers.  Joe,  her  brother,  was  feeding  the  horses;  and 
the  hired  man  came  plodding  along  from  his  labors, 
whistling  an  air  that  marked  the  vacant  mind.  When 
suddenly  there  came  along  the  high  road  two  persons  on 
horseback;  one  was  well  formed,  lovely  and  beautiful; 
her  face  was  livid  with  the  excitement  of  the  chase;  the 
other  was  tall,  manly  and  brave,  what  you  might  call 
handsome.  He  seeniecl  moved  by  some  awful  emotion, 
the  anxiety  of  his  soul  stood  out  upon  his  features,  and 
his  voice  trembled  slightly  when  he  threw  the  reins  to 
the  hired  man  and  asked,  ''Is  Parson  Dale  at  home?" 

Need  I  tell  you  theirs  was  the  same  old  story? 

The  old  man  came  hurriedly  to  the  rescue;  Joe  and 
the  hired  man  held  the  horses,  Peggy  lighted  and  held  a 
torch,  while  the  reverend  father  read  the  nuptials  under 
the  stately  elms  by  the  gate. 

Down  the  lane  another  sound  of  horses'  feet  came 
thundering  along,  as  if  it  had  been  the  rushing  of  many 
steeds  to  battle.  It  came  nearer,  nearer,  nearer  and  still 
more  near,  till  our  hearts  stood  still,  awed  by  the  awful 
expectancy  on  Otto's  visage. 

You  may  never  have  seen  Cupid  in  such  perils,  and 
I  hope  you  never  will.    For  just  as  the  preacher  uttered 


12 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


those  magic  words,  "Tliey  whom  God  has  joined  togeth- 
er, let  no  man  cast  asunder,"  the  enraged  father  rode  up, 
dismounted,  and  with  oaths  which  seemed  hke  distant 
thunder,  drew  a  dirk  from  his  bosom,  and  with  the  dex- 
terity of  a  skilled  fencer,  sprang  toward  the  bridegroom. 

Oh,  the  imx)ending  stroke!  and  Otto's  look  of  despair! 
They  haunt  me  to  this  day.  I  turned  aside  to  screen  my 
eyes  from  the  bloody  deed,  when  a  wild,  piercing,  fren- 
zied wail  cried  out,  "Spare  my  husband!"  and,  looking 
up,  I  saw  the  young  and  unhappy  wife  spring  between 
father  and  lover  just  as  the  fatal  stroke  was  falling.  She 
reeled  backward,  threw  up  her  hands  and  fell  senseless 
in  the  arms  of  the  bridegroom.  She  saved  her  husband 
at  the  peril  of  her  life. 

The  old  man  cast  one  wild,  guilty,  remorseful  look  on 
all,  remounted  his  steed  and  rode  slowly  away. 

Kind  hands  bore  the  young  woman  into  the  house, 
undressed  her  and  found  the  knife  lodged  in  the  steels 
of  her  corset.    Her  person  was  untouched. 

The  twilight  had  fallen,  but  the  firmament  stood  daz- 
zling in  the  grandeur  of  its  universal  sweep;  the  wind 
had  lulled  itself  into  rej)ose.  and  the  night  was  as  silent 
as  the  hush  of  the  Pyramids.  Nature  slept.  In  the  dis- 
tance the  farm  cock  stretched  its  neck,  flapped  its  wings 
and  crowed  till  the  stillness  was  broken.  Then  off  toward 
the  north  the  clarion  horn,  whoop  of  huntsmen,  yelp  of 
hounds  and  the  clatter  of  horses'  feet  remind  you  that 
the  red  fox  has  not  yet  escaped  its  foe ;  but  it  leads  them 
a  merry  chase,  over  hillside,  field  and  fallow,  through 
the  underbrush,  into  the  woods  beyond.  Here  the  dogs 
come  to  a  full  stop  and  the  night  is  made  hidious  with 
their  baying. 

The  hunters  gather  around  on  their  horses  and  be- 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


IB 


hold  a  bridleless  horse,  and  near  by  an  old  man  swing- 
ing from  a  tree  at  the  ends  of  his  bridle  reins.  His  hands 
are  grasping  the  reins  over  his  head,  his  eyes  are  x^ro- 
truding  and  staring,  his  tongue  is  swollen  and  lolled,  and 
speech  is  dead.  The  limb  of  the  tree  swings  down,  till 
the  great  toes  of  the  dying  man  grapple  with  the  earth. 
He  is  in  the  agonies  of  death.  To  release  him  is  but  the 
work  of  a  moment;  a  strong  arm  reaches  out  and  draws 
a  knife  across  the  noose,  and  the  man  falls  limp  and  cold. 
Such  was  the  fate  of  Shearod  Gay,  the  father  of  Otto's 
wife. 

Nothing  could  shake  ofP  this  scene.  She  grew  sick, 
and  would  not  be  revived.  She  accused  herself  of  her 
father's  death,  as  he,  doubtless,  did  himself  of  hers. 

After  visiting  all  the  health  resorts  of  this  country 
and  Europe,  Otto  returned  with  her  a  fortnight  since; 
and  there  she  lies  the  victim  of  that  fascinating  passion 
known  as  love. 


MARY  JANE'S  BRIGHT  EYE. 


OFT  in  the  liusli  of  twilight, 
When  the  golden  sunbeams  die, 
There  beams  for  me  the  light 
Of  Mary  Jane's  bright  eye: 
As  she  swings, 
And  sings, 
And  lingers  late. 
For  me  at  the  cottage  gate. 

Whenever  the  day  goes  wrong 

With  the  weight  of  cruel  cares. 
The  lustre  of  her  orbs 

Beam  brighter  though  in  tears. 
As  she  v/eej)s 
And  sweeps, 
And  watches  late 

My  coming  through  the  cottage  gate. 

(3h !  the  eyes  of  my  Mary  Jane ! 

Dark  and  sparkling,  lovely  eyes, 
Where  stood  my  reflected  self 
Mirrored  in  paradise. 
As  she  hung. 
And  swung, 
And  lingered  late, 

And  kissed  me  o'er  the  cottage  gate. 


SONNETS  TO  MY  LOVE. 


I 

I STOOD,  when  life  was  full  of  buoyant  hope, 
At  sunrise,  in  the  vanislied  years  now  flown, 
With  my  motlier.  on  that  x^iece  of  earth  that's 
known 

To  those  wlio"ve  liad  motlier" s  atfections  ope 
The  g-ate.  and  leave  ajar,  to  their  full  scope. 

The  delightful  ways  of  sweet  childhood's  home. 

And  felt  her  hand  of  blessing  on  her  own — 
And  now  when  fancy  calls  up  those  remote 
Times,  though  its  far  too  late.  I  apx3reciate 

Her  sole  absorbing  theme,  maternal  love; 
Alone  on  this,  the  greatest  human  trait. 

God  has  written  in  the  archives  above 
Divine;  but  she  left  me  disconsolate. 

Alone  in  oblivion's  sphere  to  move. 

II        •  .  - 

I  turn  away  from  this  scene  of  sadness. 

To  emlirace  thee,  fairest  of  all  the  earth. 

Thou  thrillest  me  and  all  my  friends  with  mirth 
And  incitest  hope  that  counsels  cheerfulness. 
And  bidst  me  to  no  longer  doubt:  nor  guess 

At  the  supremacy  of  thyself  and  worth. 

Xor  longer  to  compare  thee  with  the  serf; 
Life's  meaner  beings  and  their  littleness. 
Thou  art  celestial,  fair  sweetheart  of  mine. 

Divinely  fashioned  in  thine  every  part. 
The  light  that  dazzles  in  those  eyes  of  thine, 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 

Has  won  until  now  my  unconquered  heart; 
I  kneel,  divested  of  self,  at  love's  shrine 
And  offer  thee  all  my  confiding  heart. 

Ill 

It  is  thine  for  good,  for  better,  or  for  worse, 
Faithful  to  remain  through  all  the  year 
Of  checkered  life's  bright  sunshine,  cloud  and  tear, 

Thine  whatever  be  thy  sad  reverse, 

Thine  till  the  collapse  of  the  universe; 
Thine  to  revere,  to  love,  adore,  to  wear 
Thine  image  on  my  soul;  nor  fate,  nor  fear, 

Weal  nor  woe,  nor  Mammon's  power  coerce 

Me  into  cold  forgetfulness  of  thee. 
Because  thou  still  livest  alone  for  me 

And  stern,  cold,  destructive  adversity, 
Has  left  thee  goddess  of  prosperity. 

To  inspire  me.    Today,  o'er  life's  grim  sea, 
I  hear  the  glad  acclaim  of  victory. 

IV 

It's  sweet  to  hear  the  milkmaid's  rural  song- 
Floating  in  its  melody  on  the  wind ; 
The  buoyant  echo  of  a  tranquil  mind; 

And  sweeter  still  to  see  the  waving  corn, 

Falling  beneath  the  scythe  throughout  the  long- 
Harvest  days;  and  yet  still  more  so  to  find 
The  frugal  meal  spread  by  the  angel  kind. 

Which  God  gave  to  be  our  helpmate.    The  horn 

Of  plenty  thrives  in  her  delicate  hand. 
And  economy  fills  our  humble  board. 

It  is  sweet  as  you  tread  a  foreign  strand. 

Where  the  ships  from  over  the  sea  stand  moored; 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


To  learn  anew  that  in  your  native  land, 
Confiding  lovers  your  memories  hoard. 

V 

It  is  sweet  to  have  narrated  at  night 

The  travels  of  him  who  has  seen  the  earth, 
When  hoary  winter  makes  of  all  a  dearth, 

And  the  fires  of  peace  in  our  homes  burn  bright 

As  we  mix  our  wines  and  our  friendships  X3light, 
O'er  the  bright  nectar  that  kindles  the  mirth, 
Of  the  jolly  souls  that  surround  our  hearth 

With  their  witty  convivial  delight. 

But  sweeter,  sweeter  far.  than  all  of  these, 
Are  the  delicious  joys  young  lovers  steal, 

While  making  love  beneath  the  verdant  trees. 
As  they  feel  the  full,  wild,  passionate  weal 

Of  first  love's  grand  emotions;  when  the  breeze 
Of  mutual  hox^e  fans  the  fire  they  feel. 

VI 

But  this  to  me  is  the  sweetest  by  night. 

With  my  love's  soft  voice  as  the  complement, 
Chiming  the  cadence  of  its  merriment, 

While  her  heart's  at  ease,  and  her  spirit  bright, 

Allures  the  soul  in  its  ecstatic  flight. 
To  the  fullest  extent  of  its  sentient. 
Passionately,  bewildered  sentiment. 

Of  love's  profound,  affectionate  delight. 

To  feel  the  touch  of  this  angelic  one. 
In  the  sublime  grace  of  her  fellowship; 

Makes  the  heart  beat  quick  and  the  spirit  run. 
Pregnant  with  great  bliss,  into  Cupid's  ship 

O'er  oceans  of  doubt,  to  love's  dominion. 
As  on  her  uioturned  face  I  press  my  lip. 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 
VII 

And  when  under  the  weight  of  cares  for  me, 
In  alBPection's  bower  thou  seekst  repose, 
I  will  gather  the  myrtle,  lilly  and  rose, 

To  embellish  thy  resting  place  for  thee. 

For  chastity's  reclining  couch  should  be 

A  sacred  shrine,  where  the  gallant  daily  goes, 
A  self-made  vassal,  chief  of  love's  heroes 

Felling  the  vicious  tongue  of  calumny. 

When  all  the  means  at  my  command  are  spent, 
Whereof  I  might  make  thy  sleep  softly  flow 

Through  sunny  dreams,  I'll  cease  to  serve,  and  print 
A  kiss,  love's  epilogue,  on  thy  sweet  brow, 

Explanatory  of  our  merriment. 

And  resign  thee  to  slumbers  light  and  low. 

VIII 

Again  the  long  and  sombre  shadows  throw 

Their  spectre  forms  across  the  dreary  road; 

And  their  grim  quiverings  plainly  forebode 
A  crisis,  and  the  golden  sun,  although  • 
Fading,  has  still  a  rich  and  brilliant  glow. 

And  his  brow  of  burnished  gold  throws  a  robe 

Of  crimson  o'er  all;  as  the  grim  old  ford 
Between  the  night  and  the  day  he  leaps  o'er. 
When  tired  day  slowly  succumbs  to  twilight, 

Whose  silent  curtain,  dropping,  hides  the  way 
From  view,  and  we  see  cold,  dark,  gloomy  night 

In  triumph  succeed  the  beautiful  day. 
Until  the  moon  and  stars,  illumed  and  bright. 

Have  martialed  themselves  in  the  Milky  Way. 

IX 

Now  the  beauties  of  the  sun's  after  glow 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


19 


Are  reflected  in  yon  dazzling  arcade, 

As  legions  of  stars  after  stars  promenade 
Down  the  aisles  of  tlie  firmament,  and  throw 
The  glory  of  their  unique  order  o"er 

All;  there  each  in  its  special  orbit  stayed, 

By  the  rules  of  harmony  which  pervade 
The  universe,  has  beings  of  its  own. 
Who  looking  off  on  this  world  of  ours,  call 

It,  perchance,  a  star,  as  on  in  its  way 
It  goes  around  the  Prince  of  day,  a  ball 

Of  ordinate  matter,  till  ev'ry  ray 
Of  the  spheres  roll  in  files  astronomical, 

While  in  the  east  the  laughing  sunbeams  play. 

X 

Sleep,  thou  art  a  workman  of  skill  and  art, 

The  master  builder  that  turneth  the  arch 

Of  beauty  in  feminine  form;  monarch 
Of  nature's  stupendous  being  and  heart. 
That  fills  creation  to  its  utmost  part, 

With  energy  for  its  triumphant  march. 

0"er  the  blighting  forces  of  death  that  parch 
The  soul  of  beauty:  aye,  the  stricken  heart 
Beats  stronger  after  calm  repose  with  thee. 

And  death  is  foiled  in  its  triumphant  hour, 
And  marks  but  a  point  in  our  destiny. 

Where  the  watch  fires  burn  dimly  in  life's  tower 
But  will  blaze  with  renewed  vitality, 

Reignited  by  thy  silent  power. 

XI 

For  what  is  death  but  calm  repose  after  all? 
Sleep,  lovely  sleep,  that  finds  vitality; 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


Behold!  it  springs  from  seed  of  i3lant  and  tree, 
A  living  fact,  the  grave  cannot  enthrall. 
Nor  annihilation  again  recall — 

Demonstrated  resnrrection  to  me, 

Immortal  life,  man's  final  destiny; 
By  nature's  vital  forces  ever  called 
To  action  somewhere  in  the  universe, 

After  the  pause  for  refreshment  and  rest. 
In  that  realm  where  the  omnivorous  nurse 

Men  call  the  grave,  enfolds  all  to  its  breast, 
Whose  stern  immutable  powers  coerce 

And  all  the  living  maketh  a  jest. 

XII 

Blessed  is  the  man  who  enters  sleej)'s  domain 

Of  tranquility  and  majestic  ease; 

Where  refreshing  slumbers  the  weak  appease, 
And  with  beauty  reanimate  the  inane; 
Where  calumny's  shaft  and  intended  pain 
Are  vanished  never  to  return  again; 

W^here  society's  distinctions  release 

Their  hold,  and  caste— that  civil  disease — 
Which  has  destroyed  states  and  wrecked  empires, 

Is  perxDetually  barred;  there  the  old 
Consuming  blight  of  poverty  expires. 

And  of  mute  inactivity  grows  cold; 
When  peaceful  rejDose  quiets  the  desires. 

And  sleep,  majestic  sleep,  fills  the  household. 

XIII 

Come  thou,  lord  of  labor,  come.    I  jDropose 
To  ally  myself  with  thee,  and  to  have, 
Thy  powerful  hands  close  these  eyes,  and  pave 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIEE  IX  DIXIE. 


21 


My  way  to  fora'etf illness  and  repose; 
Teach  me  liow  soon  foru'ot  are  all  tlie  woes. 

The  joys,  the  trinmxohs:  and  all  that  men  crave 

Or  lioi^e  for.  love  or  abhor.  Avhen  the  g-rave. 
Ante  room  to  eternity,  shall  close 
All  the  realities  of  earth  to  me. 

Sweet  refreshino-  slumlier.  come,  my  royal 
Master,  come  tlion.  and  let  me  embrace  thee. 

Oh  I  come  thou,  and  strengthen  me  for  the  toil 
Of  another  day:  and  of  eternity 

Give  me  a  view,  ere  my  ashes  have  turned  to  soil. 

XIV  -• 
Sweet  the  morning'  after  repose  with  thee. 

A\'hen  the  firmament  turns  from  gray  to  gold'' 

And  the  radiant  starlit  sky  has  rolled 
Into  the  archives  of  day's  immensity. 
And  thou  awake,  seeming  fresh  from  Deity's 

Hands  come,  and  we  from  love's  eyes  will  l3eliold 

The  first  born  of  all  the  spheres  arise,  bold 
And  fearless  in  his  supreme  sovereignty 
O'er  all  aerial  things:  but  to  you. 

Last  and  fairest  from  the  hantl  of  God. 
He  comes  on  a'olden  winii'S.  a  servant  true, 

Alone  illuminating  thy  abode: 
There  he  is  at  last  up  the  eastern  view. 

And  only  for  thee  creation's  beauties  hoard, 

XV 

Sweep  on  in  thine  aerial  flight.  O  sun. 

Like  shadows  old  chaos  fled  l:)efore  thee. 

AMien  thou  swung  out  there  over  land  and  sea, 
The  hul)  of  the  solar  system  to  run 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


The  universe;  then  the  morning  stars  sung 
Together  while  thou  set  the  spheres  aglee, 
And  fixed  the  measures  of  their  destiny 

When  old  time's  calendar  began  to  run. 

But  who  can  fix  the  measure  of  thy  years, 

Or  tell  when  they  shall  end,  as  they  surely  will, 

For  'tis  said  thyself  shall  die,  and  the  spheres 
Shall  forget  their  concord  and  instill 

In  old  chaos  a  new  hope;  but  it  ajD^oears 
It  shall  not  triumph  when  thou  art  still. 

XVI 

Then  Jehovah's  supremest  attribute 

Will  light  the  diamond  boulevards  of  the  sky, 
And  angels  of  peace  and  light  will  fly, 

On  errands  of  love  for  thee,  and  salute 

Us  with  shouts  of  welcome,  which  w411  confute 
The  fears  our  carnal  bodies  raised,  led  by 
The  prince  of  night;  that  father  of  the  lie 

Which  once  made  us  hesitate,  and  commute 

The  priceless  favor  of  Messiah  for  him. 

But  now  we  see  His  love  in  the  pathless  wood, 

In  rippling  stream,  and  eolian  hymn. 

In  the  embellished  lea  where  Flora  stood 

And  sowed  the  flowers  in  the  early  spring, 
And  left  the  spirit  of  her  sisterhood. 

XVII 

Who  is  the  queen  of  my  fancy?  Well, 
My  friend  would  you  really  like  to  know? 
She  is  not  yellow,  white  nor  gray,  and  so 
Must  be  something  else.    I'm  afraid  to  tell, 
Since  all  that's  mean  between  heaven  and  hell, 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


23 


Aljlior  the  color  l)lack.    Slie's  clieriil}.  tlioiiuii, 

And  all  the  fair  and  the  impartial  know. 
^She  is  a  beautifnl.  beautiful  angel. 
I  care  not  what  your  prejudice,  youdl  love 

Her  in  your  heart,  when  the  light  of  her  dark  eyes 
Beam  on  you.  like  the  flash  of  stars  above 

A  dark  and  rolliug  cloud:  her  form  comxDlies 
AVith  all  the  art  the  Grecian  sculi:)tors  iDrove: 

"Her  voice?"    A  chord  escaped  from  paradise. 


MY  WISH. 


S  I  strive  to  lift  the  burden, 

When  intense  becomes  the  strife, 
If  you  are  friendly,  brother. 
While  the  tumult  is  rife. 


Is  the  time  above  all  others. 
For  the  heli3ing  hand  in  life. 

And  when  I  am  growing  weary, 

Victory  seems  in  doubt, 
Then  come  to  my  rescue,  brother, 

With  praises  loud  s^Deak  out, 
Do  not  wait  till  I  have  conquered. 

To  raise  the  cheering  shout. 

If  the  fight  is  drawn,  my  brother, 

I  neither  lose  nor  win. 
Will  you  keep  your  place  beside  me, 

Till  I  try  it  again. 
Till  I  mend  my  broken  armor, 

And  try  my  hand  again'? 

If  the  battle  goes  against  me, 
I'm  smitten  hi^D  and  thigh, 

It  is  then  and  there,  my  brother, 
I'd  like  to  have  you  nigh. 

With  your  valor  and  your  courage, 
And  not  your  sympathy. 

And  when  I'm  done,  my  brother, 
When  my  final  word  is  said, 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


25 


When  I  sleep  beneath  the  grasses 
Where  the  daisy  lifts  its  head, 

In  the  place  of  polished  marble 
Plant  the  roses  instead. 

You  may  leave  me  off  your  i^raises, 
When  they  make  my  humble  bed, 

In  the  silent  land  of  shadows 
With  the  green  sod  over  head — ■ 

If  I  am  forgot  while  living. 
Forget  me  when  I'm  dead. 

Just  leave  me  to  the  memory 

Of  him  I  used  to  know. 
Of  the  friend  who  stood  beside  me 

So  many  years  ago, 
When  you  were  quoting  calumny 

And  I  was  iDlucking  crow. 


Dixie -3 


THE  GLORY  OF  A  HORSE  TRADE. 

HORSE  trading  is  the  most  fascinating  vocation  I 
know  of.  If  it  is  not  romantic,  it  is  novel  in 
the  extreme.  By  way  of  illustrating  this  fact,  I 
desire  to  give  you  my  experience  in  this  honor- 
able business.  The  geography  of  the  place  where  the 
scene  occurred  is  unnecessary.  It  is  enough  to  say  that 
you  will  be  entertained.  This,  however,  is  mere  pre- 
sumption because  it  is  about  horse  trading. 

It  was  my  first  business  day,  in  my  new  stable  in 
Twenty- third  Avenue.  Here  I  had  collected  as  fine  a 
lot  of  horses,  mules,  buggies,  carriages  and  other  stock 
of  the  trade  as  I  have  seen  south  of  Kentucky. 

I  had  just  gone  through  the  exercise  of  showing  a 
horse  off  to  the  best  advantage,  when  some  one  an- 
nounced a  gentlemen  who  wanted  to  purchase  a  horse. 
Upon  this  the  gentleman  entered  and  introduced  him- 
self to  me  as  General  Bearwell,  of  the  Thirty-third 
Calvary,  U.  S.  A.  I  advanced  and  offered  him  my  hand, 
saying  as  I  did  so,  "My  name  is  Roland,  sir.  I  hope 
you  are  well?" 

"Quite  so,  I  thank  you,"  said  he  with  the  familiarity 
of  an  old  friend. 

I  looked  him  through,  and  thought  I  knew  my  man. 
He  was  just  the  fellow  for  my  beautiful  black  steed  with 
the  dark  fiery  eyes. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you.  General?"  said  I,  with  my 
soul  in  the  word  General. 

He  replied,  "I  wish  to  purchase  a  horse." 
"Any  choice  as  to  color,  General?" 
"I  like  black  horses,  sir." 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


27 


Up  to  this  point  in  the  game  I  had  been  studying 
the  General's  temperament,  which  I  found  to  be  nervous. 
Perceiving  him  to  be  a  smoker,  also,  I  was  prepared  to 
begin  the  trade  in  earnest,  which  I  did  through  the  per- 
suasive influence  of  a  pure  Havana  cigar. 

I  took  my  match  case  from  its  retreat,  drew  a  match 
across  the  scratch,  which  seemed  to  ignite  itself  from  its 
jeweled  setting,  and  handed  it  to  the  General.  Our 
cigars  lighted,  we  walked  leisurely  along  between  the 
stalls  till  we  reached  the  one  in  which  was  quartered  my 
beautiful  horse.  Here  I  stox3ped,  drew  a  wisp  of  smoke, 
puffed  it  to  the  ceiling,  and  threw  the  cigar  aside.  Then 
I  stepped  to  the  noble  animal,  slapped  him  on  the 
shoulder,  and  said,  "Here,  General,  is  a  horse  that  will 
suit  you.  He  is  a  horse  every  inch  of  him!  He  is 
swifter  than  any  thing  driven  in  Ben  Hur's  oriental 
races;  and  more  docile  than  old  Dagobert's  horse  of 
Wandering  Jew  proclivities." 

I  had  played  this  trick  a  thousand  times.  I  wish 
you  could  have  seen  me  on  this  occasion.  I  was  at  my 
best.    The  General  was  captivated  and  asked  the  price. 

"Here,  boy,  lead  this  horse  to  the  front,"  said  I,  as  I 
lighted  another  cigar  from  that  magic  box,  as  if  I  did 
not  hear  the  General. 

That  boy  was  the  jewel  of  a  jockey.  He  knew  how 
to  lead  a  horse.  You  talk  about  horse  trading!  It 
ought  to  be  enrolled  in  the  galaxy  of  science  as  one  of 
the  fine  arts. 

My  horses  were  always  young,  and  of  the  finest 
breed.  They  never  passed  the  age  of  seven  years. 
Most  of  them  had  just  dropped  their  colt's  teeth,  in  the 
natural  way,  or  by  the  aid  of  cold  steel.  The  General 
examined  the  teeth  of  that  horse  and  found  them  to  be 


28 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LILE  IN  DIXIE 


all  right.  They  who  buy  and  sell  horses  know  the  value 
of  good  teeth  to  the  trade. 

Our  trade  was  now  fairly  on.  Having  found  a  horse 
to  suit  the  General,  the  next  thing  was  to  fit  him  to  a 
price  worthy  of  him  and  remunerative  to  me.  This  is 
the  objective  point  in  a  horse  trade.  It  is  not  the  value 
of  the  horse,  nor  his  cost — this  has  nothing  to  do  with 
it.  It  is  your  customer's  standing  in  society,  his  taste, 
his  whims  and  his  pride.  Put  a  price  on  these,  and  go 
at  him  through  his  emotions.  Arouse  these  and  keep 
them  aroused.  This  is  no  easy  task;  but  if  you  are  up 
to  date  in  your  business,  it  is  a  pleasant  duty. 

The  General  wore  a  beautiful  watch  charm,  under 
the  glass  casing  of  which  was  a  beautiful  picture  of  him- 
self, standing  by  a  beautiful  black  stallion  that  was 
almost  the  exact  counterpart  of  my  own  horse.  With 
that  charm  between  my  finger  and  thumb  I  toyed  a 
moment,  with  my  mind  on  an  immense  mirror  I  keep  in 
my  stable,  to  aid  me  in  fixing  fancy  prices  for  fashion- 
able people. 

I  knew  if  I  could  get  the  General  to  see  himself  by 
my  horse  in  the  position  he  occupied  in  the  picture,  all 
would  be  well.  Nothing  surpasses  the  other  fellow's 
characteristics  in  a  horse  trade,  if  you  can  enlist  them 
unawares. 

At  last  I  said,  "General,  I  should  like  to  see  you 
ride  that  horse.  He  is  a  noble  fellow;  and,  besides,  you 
can  best  judge  of  his  speed  and  gaits  when  once  you 
mount  him." 

This  was  a  difficult  lead;  but  the  General  took  it  like 
a  charm.  As  he  cantered  down  the  street  I  whispered 
to  that  faithful  jockey,  "The  glass."  In  a  few  minutes 
the  General  returned. 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


29 


The  jockey  caught  the  horse  and  led  him  to  the 
proper  iDosition,  in  front  of  that  magnificant  mirror. 
The  General  dismounted,  and,  from  force  of  habit,  leaned 
back  on  the  horse's  shoulder,  with  his  hand  playing 
with  his  silken  mane.  There  they  stood,  as  fine  a  speci- 
men of  animated  nature  as  I  ever  beheld. 

Again  he  asked  the  price,  and,  as  I  had  him  prepared 
for  it.  I  put  it  to  him  straight,  forty  eagles  in  gold!  He 
staggered  under  this  a  little,  but  I  kept  him  on  his  feet 
by  slapping  the  horse  in  the  flanks,  and  saying,  ''beauti- 
ful steed — thoroughbred — I  cannot  sell  him — General, 
can  I  show  you  another  horse?'" 

This  little  maneuver  brought  the  General  around  all 
right.  The  terms  were  agreed  to  and  he  invited  me 
down  to  his  camp  for  the  money.  The  horses  were  soon 
saddled;  and  we  rode  out  of  my  stable  chatting  like  old 
friends. 

I  can  never  forget  that  afternoon.  The  General,  a 
thorough  horsemen,  and  his  jDrancing  steed  are  indeli- 
bly stamped  on  my  mind.  The  forest  trees  were  deco- 
rated in  all  the  splendor  of  green,  orange  and  vermilion, 
among  which  the  sunbeams  were  falling  in  rivulets  of 
gold.  A  brisk  wind  blew  in  from  the  south,  and  lifted 
the  mane  of  the  General's  horse  in  beautiful  folds  of 
silk,  whose  ebony  color  dazzled  as  it  waved. 

I  had  jDlayed  my  part  well.  Think  of  it,  four  hun- 
dred dollars  for  that  horse!  He  cost  me  only  forty,  and 
he  was  fifteen  years  old  if  a  day.  Dr.  Leonard,  the 
dentist,  had  made  him  a  beautiful  set  of  ivory  teeth, 
whose  artistic  finish  seemed  to  rei^roduce  nature. 

I  confess,  to  use  a  vulgar  phrase,  I  "played  the 
General  for  all  he  was  worth."  Played  for  a  big  stake 
and — I  was  about  to  say — got  it.     I  had  an  easy  time 


30 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


with  him.  The  only  thing  in  my  way  was  my  con- 
science. I  know  you  will  laugh  to  hear  of  such  a  thing 
in  a  horse  trader,  but  it  is  too  true;  that  avenging  spirit, 
or  whatever  you  may  call  it,  kept  nagging  me  under  the 
left  arm,  and  ringing  in  my  ears,  "Thou  robber!"  But,, 
like  most  of  the  brethren  of  the  profession,  I  smothered 
it  at  last  under  the  happy  expectancy  of  that  four 
hundred  dollars. 

During  our  ride  to  the  camp  the  General  told  me  of 
his  travels  in  the  far  east.  He  had  served  as  major  in 
the  English  army,  during  its  Egyptian  campaign,  up 
the  valley  of  the  Nile.  He  had  hunted  tigers  in  the- 
jungles  of  the  Soudan,  looked  in  upon  the  faithful 
during  the  devotionals  of  the  Koran  in  Mecca,  and 
traded  horses  in  the  city  of  Bagdad.  In  response  to 
this  remark  I  bulged  my  off  cheek  with  my  tongue. 

We  are  now  in  the  camp  of  the  General,  and  the 
scene  changes.  Not  till  death  separates  me  from  all 
things  earthly,  shall  I  forget  what  I  am  about  to  impart. 
No  sooner  had  we  reached  the  camp,  than  I  became  the 
General's  guest.  He  treated  me  as  if  I  were  a 
prince.  He  offered  me  cigars,  the  delicate  flavor  of 
which  surpassed  my  own  pure  Havanas;  and  wine,  ah 
me,  such  wine !  its  sparkling,  oily  smoothness  verified  an 
age,  the  remoteness  of  which  I  cannot  imagine.  I  con- 
fess I  tipped  my  glass  and  drank  to  the  General's 
health.  Who  would  refuse  a  glass  of  wine  and  lose  the 
sweet  sensations  of  a  triumphant  horse  trade? 

During  the  drinks,  the  General  kept  sxjinning  yarns 
about  his  visit  to  Bagdad,  until  a  little  old  man  came  in 
and  handed  him  a  note.  This  fellow  the  General  intro- 
duced to  me  as  his  friend  and  cook.  The  cook  bowed  a 
genteel  salute,  and  retired.    Then  the  General  offered 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE 


31 


me  twelve  ten  dollar  bills.  sayiiiK  as  lie  did  so.  "This, 
my  friend,  is  all  I  can  f^ive  you  for  your  steed,  my  cook 
says  it  is  all  lie  is  worth."  Do  not  ask  me  to  describe 
my  surprise,  for  I  cannot.  I  lost  my  temxDer.  As  we 
were  S'rowiniJ'  into  hot  words,  the  Inmie  called  to  drills, 
and  the  General  retired. 

Presently  the  cook  came  in.  wearin^r  a  blank  smile, 
and  said:  "My  master  says  he  owes  you  money,  will  you 
please  acceijt  it  and  depart"?  The  camp  is  closed  to  vis- 
itors." UxDon  which  he.  too.  counted  to  me  twelve  of  the 
prettiest  ten-dollar  bills  I  remember  liavino-  seen.  I 
confess  this  was  a  deo-ree  of  the  i^rofessioii  of  which  I 
was  io'norant.  HowcA^er.  I  did  the  best  I  could.  I  ex- 
amined the  money  and  found  it  to  be  counterfiet.  pure 
and  simple.  I  threw  it  in  the  face  of  that  cook:  and  ])e- 
o'an  to  beat  him  unmercifully.  The  guards  heard  his 
cries,  and.  rushiim-  in.  hurried  us  off  to  the  marshal  of 
the  watch:  who  demanded  of  us  why  we  had  disturbed 
the  i^eace  of  the  canip.^ 

I  spoke  in  my  own  defense,  and  told  him  all  about 
my  trade  and  the  deception  ot  the  General  and  his  cook, 
eiiiphasiziim'  the  offer  of  countertiet  money  with  such 
persuasive  eloquence  as  to  carry  the  marshal  with  me- 
So  much  so  that  he  ex^Dressed  a  desire  to  punish  the  of- 
fenders: unless  they  had  some  extenuating-  circumstance 
to  otf'er. 

Then  he  turned  to  that  consummate  scoundrel,  the 
cook,  and  addressed  him  in  these  words:  "My  o'ood  fel- 
low, what  can  you  say  for  yourself?" 

He  bowed  his  head  to  the  earth  in  real  Oriental  fash- 
ion, and  said.  "Much,  your  lion(  )r.  much  I  This  stranu'er 
sold  my  master  a  horse  for  four  hundred  dollars  in  ^o\c\t 
Avhich  I  have  paid  him  as  directed.    Instead  of  depart- 


32 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


ing  with  his  money,  as  he  should  have  done,  he  violently 
assailed  me  in  our  tent,  and  accuses  me  falsely  before 
your  honor/" 

Again  the  marshal  turned  to  me  for  a  reply,  which  I 
hastened  to  give.  Confident  of  vanishing  my  enemy, 
the  cook.  I  turned  out  my  inner  pockets  to  verify  my 
innocence.  Imagine  my  unutterable  horror,  to  see  forty 
eagles  in  gold,  rolling  therefrom.  I  hung  my  head  to 
hide  my  shame,  with  my  heart  boiling  with  rage.  I 
stood  there  irresolute  and  confused,  and  the  cook  tri- 
umphantly chuckled. 

Then  the  marshal,  addressing  the  cook,  said,  ''Have 
you  anything  further  to  say?'' 

To  which  he  answered.  "This  man  seems  to  be  ignor- 
ant of  the  glories  of  a  horse  trade.  Since  he  displays  so 
much  ignorance,  let  him  return  my  master's  gold,  take 
his  horses  and  leave  the  camp.'' 

"Be  it  so,"  said  the  marshal. 

Mounted  on  the  horse  I  rode  to  the  camp,  and  lead- 
ing the  one  I  was  to  have  sold  the  General,  I  made  my 
way  home,  crest  fallen  and  sad.  Some  days  later  I  re- 
ceived four  hundred  dollars  in  gold  from  the  General, 
and  the  following  letter: 

Valley  Camp  33  Cavalry  U.  S.  A.,  Sept.  15,  18 — 
Mr.  Roland,  City  Stables 

Dear  Sir — -A  few  days  ago  my  cook  and  you  had  some  little  mis- 
understanding about  a  horse  trade.  I  regret  it  very  much.  You  will 
please  find  inclosed  the  price  of  the  horse  you  sold  me.  The  conscien- 
tious respect  I  have  for  the  glory  of  a  horse  trade  prompts  me  to  send 
you  the  gold.  You  ought  to  have  kept  the  money  instead  of  taking 
away  my  Arabian  stallion  without  my  consent.  Thinking  that  you 
mistook  my  horse  for  yours  I  give  you  the  opportunity  of  returning 
im^  if  you  prefer  to  swap  horses,  you  may  return  the  gold  and 
keep  himj  but  in  no  case  are  you  to  keep  both.  I  hope  you  will  ac- 
cept my  apology  for  the  behavior  of  my  cook:    I  know  you  will  when 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


83 


you  learn  why  he  acted  as  he  did.  He  and  the  marshal  had  made  a 
bet  that  you  did  not  know  one  horse  from  another,  and  vet  had  sense 
enough  to  hoodwink  me.  By  this  time  I  presume  you  are  aware  of 
the  truth  of  this  statement. 

You  forgot  to  tell  me  vour  horse  had  false  teeth,  a  fact  I  learned 
todav  while  on  parade^  for  then  my,  or  rather  ^•our  horse's  teeth  fell 
from  his  mouth,  much  to  mv  displeasure.  I  nearly  forgot  to  tell  vou 
that  my  old  stallion  lost  his  eyes  during  one  of  the  battles  of  our 
Egyptian  campaign.  While  I  was  in  Paris  an  oculist  made  him  those 
beautiful  dark  eyes. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  the  noise  of  the  camp  disturbed  you  as  you 
rode  away  the  other  dav;  please  accept  my  apology  for  the  boys;  they 
were  applauding  my  cook  on  his  good  judgment.  He,  by  the  way,  is 
an  East  India  juggler  of  rare  skill. 

Hoping  that  you  will  accept  this  explanation  in  good  grace,  I  ap- 
preciate the  honor  of  subscribing  myself, 

Yours  truly, 

General  Bearwell. 

I  dropped  the  letter  and  ran  to  the  stall  of  my  favor- 
ite steed:  he  was  not  there.  l)ut  another  one  instead,  in 
whose  dark  eye  o-leamed  all  the  fire  of  the  Arabian  horse 
which,  upon  examinati(_)n.  I  t'cjund  to  l)e  artificial  indeed. 

It  was  now  my  turn  in  the  u-ame.  I  had  the  Grener- 
al"s  money  and  a  horse  in  many  respects  h^etter  than  my 
forty  dollar  one. 

But  the  Li'oldl  the  u'oldl  Its  mellow  clink  fell  up(_)n 
my  ears  so  seductively  that  my  heart  stood  still  and  my 
soul  hesitated  between  forty  eagles  and  a  blind  h(jrse. 
Then  my  conscience  returned  to  its  old  place  under  my 
left  arm  and  vdiispered  ■"honor:"  and.  remembering-  the 
General,  by  his  acts,  placed  me  scpiarely  on  the  glory  of  a 
horse  trade.  I  returned  the  gold. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


I  CARE  NOT  FOR  THE  MISER'S  GOLD. 

I CARE  not  for  the  miser's  gold, 
Nor  increased  acreage  of  lands; 
My  neighbor's  goods  I  would  not  hold 
Nor  wring  wealth  from  his  clinched  hands - 
Oh  no!  My  God!  I  would  not  have 

My  hands  itching  for  his  gold, 
A  higher  boon  my  spirit  craves 

Of  Thee.    Let  me  communion  hold 
With  these:  the  good,  the  great,  the  free; 

Aye!  let  me  scale  the  towering  dome 
Of  thought,  and  feel,  and  know,  and  see 

The  highest  dome  bidding  welcome 
To  my  continued  upward  flight; 

Oh,  grant  that  I  may  stand  amid 
Men  of  thought,  a  man;  banish  night 
From  my  clouded  brow,  and  me  rid 
Of  my  mental  infirmities. 
Thou  Deity  of  Deities! 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE, 


CASTLE  BUILDERS. 


AXY  and  many  a  merry  clay. 
Under  the  oak  tree's  shade. 


1     I   We  children  tripped  it  ont  to  play. 

Happy,  blithe  and  u'ay: 
Then  we  hnilt  our  airy  castles  hiu'h. 
To  occupy — ah  when? 
When  we  were  u-rown  to  men. 
Those  beautiful,  airy  castles  hi^'h, 
When  we  were  m"own  to  men. 

Or  down  the  lane  we  chased  the  fly. 

That  brilliant,  g-auzy  thing-. 
Which  seemed  a  sunbeam  floatinu'  by, 

Blithe  and  gay  as  we, 
When  we  built  those  airy  castles  high, 

To  occupy — ah  when? 

When  we  were  grown  to  men. 
Those  beautiful,  airy  castles  high, 

When  we  were  grown  to  men. 

Alas!  the  golden  years  have  flown; 

Also  the  Idithe  and  gay: 
But  hope's  x^liantoms  flit  the  gloam 

Just  the  same  today; 
And  we  build  our  airy  castles  high, 

To  occupy  them  when 

We  unite  the  schemes  of  men — 
You  beautiful,  airy  castles  high, 

^'e'll  occu^Dy  you  then. 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 

And  soar  again  on  fancy's  wings, 

Chasing  the  rainbows  down; 
Those  radiant  and  dazzling  things, 

The  visionary  schemes  of  men; 
And  build  our  castles  somewhat  worse^ 

Than  in  the  years  gone  by; 

For  we  shall  occupy  them  when 
We  learn  to  know  man  is  a  farce. 

And  his  i^romise  is  a  lie. 

THE  PYRAMID. 

THE  pyramid  through  ages  past, 
Through  all  their  tempest,  storm  and  blast, 
Held  its  apex  up  to  grasp 
The  elements. 

Three  thousand  years,  long  and  fleet, 
Have  struck  their  colors  at  its  feet. 
Ten  thousand  more  its  strength  shall  meet 
Till  time  is  done. 

Where  is  the  tower  Babel  built? 
Where  is  Tyre's  crimson  hilt? 
Judea's  temple,  and  the  guilt 
Her  neighbors'  knew? 

They're  gone  at  oblivion's  call — 
Old  Egypt's  skill  survives  them  all — 
Yet  in  the  art  of  Pharach's  pall 
The  Egyptian  lives. 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


JOFS  FARM. 

ANY  and  many  a  year  has  gone 
/  ^  I       Since  I  was  cleared  by  Joe, 
/     I   Who  plowed  me  up  and  planted  corn, 
L  To  see  it  shoot  and  grow. 

He  built  an  old  Virginia  fence 
Out  there  where  the  wires  run; 

And  worked,  he  said,  in  self-defense. 
From  sunny  sun  to  sun. 

He  planted  peas  between  the  rows, 
And  pumpkins  here  and  there; 

And  where  that  patch  of  briar  grows 
He  set  out  deep  the  pear. 

And  further  on  the  apple  tree, 
And  the  peach  orchard  there; 

With  worthy  pride  embellished  me 
With  fruit  trees  ev'ry where. 

And  placed  around  the  orchard,  sir,  ' 
Were  hives  and  hives  of  bees; 

In  the  piggery  the  hogs  were ; 
In  the  i3asture,  the  beeves. 

And  fiery  steeds,  and  all  that  go 

To  make  your  farm  a  home : 
But  that  which  was  most  prized  by  Joe 

Was  his  broad" fertile  loam. 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 

He  kept  me  fertilized  and  tiled, 

With  ditches  deep  and  wide, 
And  never  let  the  floods  run  wild. 

Nor  stream  it  down  my  side. 
And  where  the  gullies  would  have  been. 

Near  by  he  planted  trees; 
Then  there  the  grass  grew  bright  and  green, 

And  there  would  play  the  breeze. 
But  J oe  has  long  since  passed  away. 

And  others  master  here; 
Yet  since  that  sad  and  gloomy  day 

I've  lordless  been  and  drear. 

And  where  was  once  the  verdant  knoll, 

Gullies  are  yawning  wide; 
And  when  it  rains  the  waters  roll 

In  torrents  down  my  side. 
Here  in  the  flats  the  briars  grow. 

The  thistles  on  the  hills; 
And  where  the  gin  wheels  used  to  go 

Are  a  few  rotten  sills. 
The  gentleman  that's  master  now 

Says  farming  does  not  pay ; 
He  neither  drives  nor  holds  the  plow. 
And  values  not  his  clay. 
When  the  master  of  this  place  was  Joe 

And  cotton  king  of  croi3S, 
I've  seen  the  white  and  red  blooms  blow 

On  miles  of  my  sunny  tops. 
And  in  the  fall  the  fleecy  stuff 

Would  fill  the  earth  like  snow. 
The  harvesters  would  cry  enough, 

And  farming  it  paid  Joe. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


For  down  the  lane  and  o'er  the  lea 


To  church  we  often  tread,. 
In  that  careless  sort  of  way. 

That  leads  to  love,  they  say; 
And  after  church  we  often  search 
For  garlands  by  the  way. 

Yes.  May  and  I  are  friends, 

And  something  more,  they  say; 
Because  along  the  curved  strand, 

Where  we  sat  the  other  day, 
I  sim^jly  wrote  her  name, 

And  wrote  it  o'er  again; 
AVhen  after  church  we  stopped  to  searc 

For  shells  along  the  main. 

More  than  friends  are  we, 

My  bonny  May  and  I: 
At  least  that's  what  our  neighbors  say 

Whene'er  they  XDass  us  by. 
They  smile  and  wink  their  eye. 

And  set  their  necks  awry : 
When  after  church  we  stop  to  search 

For  heart's  ease.  May  and  I. 


AFTER  CHURCH. 


E^S.  May  and  I  are  friends. 
Lovers,  manv  have  said: 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


WORDS. 

VORDS  are  but  leaves  to  the  tree  of 
mind; 
Where  breezy  fancy  plays; 
Or  echoes  from  the  souls  which  find 
Expression's  subtle  ways. 

A  beaming  lamp  to  idea's  feet 
Where  sentinel  thought  abides; 

Or  a  guide  to  the  soul's  retreat, 
Where  master  man  presides. 

A  jewel  trembling  on  the  tongue, 

The  index  of  the  heart; 
The  black  mask  from  the  spirit  wrung. 

Revealing  every  part. 

A  ship  upon  the  sea  of  life, 

With  all  her  sails  aswell; 
Her  cargo  being  the  bread  of  life, 

Or  the  cindered  dross  of  hell. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


41 


LINES  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  FRIEND. 

LIFE  is  a  mysterious  thing. 
It  comes  we  know  not  whence. 
And  leaves  us  on  a  rapid  wing 
For  an  absence  immense. 

Just  y ester  morn  I  had  a  friend, 
Cheerful,  brilliant  and  gay; 

Today  grim  Death  announced  his  end, 
And  bore  him  hence  away. 

Away  into  that  dark  region, 
From  kindred,  friend  and  foe, 

To  join  the  numberless  legion 
Of  men  who  went  before. 

Who,  now,  will  cheer  the  broken  hearted, 
Or  shield  them  from  Death's  wrath. 

Since  the  strong,  the  brave,  has  departed. 
And  left  a  corpse  in  the  path  ? 

He  was  adorned  with  honor's  star. 
Had  conquered  all  but  fate; 

Death's  wing  became  his  palace  car 
And  l3ore  him  to  heaven's  gate. 

SleeiD  on,  dear  friend;  thou  art  not  dead; 

Much  labor  bids  thee  rest 
Profoundly  in  thy  narrow  bed, 

Of  mother  earth  the  guest. 

Dixie -4 


SKETCHES  FKOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 

The  good,  the  great  in  eminence, 
The  famous,  and  the  proud, 

Shall  join  thee,  shorn  of  this  pretense. 
Clothed  only  with  a  shroud. 

Ambition,  pride  and  hope  may  rise 
Towering  up  Fame's  dazzling  peaks 

Yet  they  but  find  in  glory's  skies 
The  bier  where  valor  sleeps. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


43 


BLUE  CORNER. 

DEAE  READER:  If  you  ever  visit  Mississippi,  do 
not.  I  l^ea'  you.  leave  it  till  you  have  seen  Blue 
Corner.  It  is  so  superb  in  its  hospitality,  so  se- 
ductive in  its  amusements,  so  varied  in  its  appear- 
ance, and  so  imique  in  its  u'eneral  make-up  that  I  want 
you  to  see  it. 

I  blush  at  the  poverty  of  my  vocal)ulary.  since  it  con- 
tains no  descriptive  word  fur  the  f ascinatino:  pleasures  of 
Blue  Corner.  The  want  of  this  sinu'le  word  moves  me  to 
the  a.uTeeable  labor  of  describing'  this  place  in  a  few  hun- 
dred pao'es  of  broken  remarks. 

I  was  born  in  Cxlen  Cove,  an  unassuming'  hamlet  sit- 
uated in  a  remote  corner  of  Mississippi.  I  remained  in 
this  place  till  my  tAvt-nty-third  birthday:  and  there  I 
might  have  stayed  until  my  huml)le  life'^ound  its  termi- 
nus under  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf,  had  it  not  been  for  a 
wandering  book  agent.  Roliert  Roller  by  name,  who 
came  to  our  home  al3out  the  middle  of  April.  A.  D. 
1890.  and  made  it  his  headquarters,  while  he  canvassed 
the  coimtry  for  miles  aroimd.  with  a  book  called  ""The 
Annals  of  Bluster  City."  Like  most' of  his  fellow  trades- 
men he  had  a  wonderful  vocabulary,  and  the  continual 
flow  of  his  words  reminded  me  of  the  energy  that  marks 
the  discourse  of  the  new  woman:  there  was  no  end  to  it. 

I  could  offer  no  resistance  to  his  rounded  x^eriods: 
and  so.  of  evenings,  when  he  returned  from  his  lal:)ors.  I 


44 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


sat  riveted  to  my  seat,  while  lie  painted,  as  only  a  book 
ao-ent  can,  the  beauties  of  ''The  Annals  of  Bluster  City." 

From  these  learned  recitals  I  escaped  only  when  he 
fell  asleep  over  his  labors.  He  followed  me,  however,  in 
his  slumbers,  with  such  a  dogged  determination  that  the 
toil  of  his  dreams  fatigued  him,  and  he  arose  from  his 
couch  haggard  and  worn.  At  last  his  labors  were  ended, 
and  he  was  about  to  take  his  leave  of  us  forever,  when 
he  called  me  aside  and  gave  me  a  little  confidential  in- 
formation. 

Said  he,  "Bluster  City  proper  lies  about  seventy 
miles  from  this  i3lace.  If  you  desire  to  visit  it.  follow 
this  direction:  keep  to  the  main  county  road,  which  leads 
off  to  the  northwest  through  a  stretch  of  fifty  miles  of 
primeval  pine  forest,  in  which  the  lumberman's  axe  has 
never,  or  rarely,  fallen  to  break  the  grandeur  of  its  soli- 
tude; by  Williamsburg,  Mount  Carmel,  Westville,  Har- 
risville,  Steens  Creek,  Pearson  Station  and  on  to  the 
River  of  Pearls ;  on  the  right  bank  of  which  stands  Blus- 
ter City.  A  complete  history  of  this  delightful  iAs.ce  is 
contained  in  its  annals,  with  the  exception  of  a  single 
chapter  which  contains  the  after  thought  of  its  author, 
written  some  years  before  the  publication  of  the  last 
edition,  as  a  kind  of  appendix.  This  cha]3ter  is  known 
as  Blue  Corner.  When  you  visit  the  city  do  not  forget 
to  see  it." 

Dear  reader,  you  will  not  marvel  if  I  tell  you 
"The  Annals  of  Bluster  City"  destroyed  my  peace  of 
mind.  I  read  the  first  edition  through  to  the  last  chap- 
ter; and  there  found  written  with  a  bold  hand,  ''Con- 
tinued in  Blue  Corner.''  This  book  is  full  of  thrilling 
narratives  of  love,  hatred,  revenge  and  death;  among 
which  occasional   descriptions  of  lynching   bees  are 


SKETCHES  FKOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


45 


thrown,  to  make  it  easy  reacliiio':  these  of  course  are  in 
the  ,i4Tand  passai^vs  of  the  book,  of  which  I  am  not  at 
liberty  to  speak.  It  is  enoiioii  to  say  tliey  contain 
the  southern  idea  of  greatness,  and  the  supremacy  of  a 
superior  mind. 

Since  it  is  useless  to  reach  out  after  the  unattainable, 
you  will  allow  me  to  return  to  Blue  Corner.  It  is  there 
I  found  many  a  painful  experience  and  the  subject-mat- 
ter for  the  reminiscences  of  my  eventful  life:  for  I  was 
temjDted.  and.  true  to  the  Adam  in  my  nature,  fell.  That 
is,  I  made  uj)  my  mind  to  visit  Bluster  City,  and  see  the 
sio-hts. 

Full  of  this  thou^-ht  I  bundled  my  little  l)elonoino-s 
together  in  a  bandana  handkerchief:  and.  while  my  xDar- 
ents  sleiDt.  I  took  what  I  wanted  of  their  treasures,  and 
departed.  The  moon  in  its  last  quarter  poised  above 
the  great  pine  forest,  and  dropped  a  flood  of  silver  over 
its  ocean  of  swaying  green:  shooting  stars  were  playing 
about  the  firmament,  and  in  the  distance  the  baying  of 
the  watch  dog  broke  the  monotony  of  the  silence:  save 
this,  and  the  beating  of  my  own  heart,  all  were  as  silent 
as  a  city  of  the  dead. 

I  stood  alone  in  the  heart  of  the  south.  l)etween  two 
rivals.  Robert  Roller's  Bluster  City,  and  my  mother's 
love.  For  an  .hour  I  stopped  in  the  lonely  road,  and 
swung  between  the  two  like  a  pendulum,  till  Blue  Cor- 
ner cast  the  die  and  my  fate  was  struck. 

AVith  a  firm  stej).  a  bold  heart  and  a  moist  eye  I 
moved  off  towards  the  northwest.  For  three  days  I  jour- 
neyed in  this  direction,  until  I  was  within  a  few  miles 
of  the  city.  Then  I  stopped  by  the  wayside,  to  rest  un- 
der an  elm  tree,  and  fell  in  a  refreshing  slumber:  and  of 
course  I  dreamed  a  dream.    For.  you  will  remember,  the 


46 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


family  of  Jacobs  have  not  a  monopoly  of  this  business; 
and  if  I  did  not  see  a  ladder  with  ascending  and  de- 
scending angels,  and  the  sun,  moon  and  stars  at  my  feet. 
I  saw  a  great  cathedral,  in  which  men,  women  and 
children  had  gathered  themselves  in  thanksgiving,  be- 
cause of  their  victory  over  Bacchus  and  the  capture  of 
the  wild  beast  that  had  drawn  his  chariot.  In  and 
around  the  cathedral  were  the  chiming  of  bells,  the 
carols  of  joy,  the  prattle  of  children,  the  loveliness  of 
women,  the  roll  of  music  and  orations  by  the  great  men 
of  the  city. 

During  this  jubilee,  some  mischief  making  boys 
wandered  off  to  the  museum,  where  the  wild  beast  was 
caged,  and  amused  themselves  with  pulling  its  tail;  which 
had  the  x)eculiar  effect  of  making  it  shed  large  and 
copious  tears.  These  tears  were  caught  in  a  flagon  and, 
because  of  their  delicious  taste,  were  in  great  demand 
among  the  boys;  so  they  pulled  its  tail  the  more,  some 
of  them  holding  the  flagon  to  its  eyes  the  while,  and  the 
more  eager  the  operation  of  the  boys,  the  more  abundant 
was  the  flow  of  the  beast's  tears,  during  which  it  became 
perfectly  blind,  and  oblivious  of  all  around  it;  because 
of  which  peculiarity  they  called  it  a  "blind  tiger." 

Anxious  to  taste  the  delicious  beverage,  I  made  a 
rush  for  the  flagon,  grasped  it,  and  was  lifting  it  to  my 
lips  in  triumph,  when  it  turned  to  ashes;  and  I  awoke. 
Thus  ended  one  of  my  fantastic  dreams  of  Blue  Corner. 

I  arose  from  my  rude  couch,  swung  my  bandana 
bundle  across  my  shoulder,  and  struck  out  at  a  brisk 
walk  toward  the  city,  which  I  reached  about  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  of  May  19,  A.  D.  1890. 

There  was  nothing  specially  attractive  about  this 
afternoon,  though  the  scenery  had  changed  wonderfully. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE 


47 


Instead  of  the  liuge  pine  trees,  with  their  long  trnnks 
reaching  np  and  bracing  their  universal  green  against 
the  sky;  and  hills  that  bulged  up  like  pyramids,  leaving 
but  a  span  between  them  for  valleys :  there  was  the  un- 
dulating landscax3e.  with  its  cultured  fields,  neat  little 
cottages  nestling  in  the  lap  of  blooming  orchards,  where 
the  laughter  of  children,  the  hum  of  bees,  blooming 
flowers,  murmuring  rills  and  the  ploughman's  occasional 
"haw"  gave  nature  a  pleasing  aspect. 

The  road  l^roadened  and  grew  into  a  wide,  well 
graded  and  commodious  pike,  where  the  multitudes  go 
continually.  Here  another  pedestrian  came  into  the 
high  road,  from  an  opposite  direction:  and  as  he  was  of 
agreeable  manners,  we  walked  along  together. 

After  the  usual  salutation  he  asked  whence  I  came. 
I  pointed  off  toward  the  southeast,  with  that  care  worn 
expression  in  gesture  and  face  that  told  of  the  roughness 
of  the  road  over  which  I  had  come.  "Ah  yes!""  said  he, 
"''I  rememl^er  that  hilly  country:  there  the  road  is  a  mere 
path,  winding  in  and  out  and  around  immense  forest 
trees,  over  steep  and  abrupt  boulders,  and  deep  ravines, 
where  the  shade  of  the  hills  obscures  the  light  of  the 
sun.  A  rough  road  indeed,  but  I  dare  say  you  found  it 
more  agreeable  the  further  you  came  toward  the  north- 
west?'' 

I  smiled,  nodded  my  approval  of  his  remarks,  and 
grasped  him  by  the  hand.  He  held  me  fraternally  by 
the  hand  a  moment,  looked  me  full  in  the  face  and  said. 
"But  do  you  not  think  you  would  have  found  a  more 
agreeable  terminus  if  you  had  gone  the  other  way?""  I 
smiled,  and  said  I  thought  the  pike  an  ideal  road,  of 
which  no  one  could  justly  complain.    At  this  he  shook 


48 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


his  head,  and  said,  "Young  man,  beware  of  that  thorough- 
fare where  the  road  is  broad  and  the  way  wide." 

The  crowd  grew  denser  and  we  lost  each  other  in  its 
pressure.  We  never  met  again.  I  was  caught  with  the 
multitude  and  hurried  into  the  city.  I  found  an  inn 
and  took  lodging  for  the  night.  I  went  to  my  room 
early  and  lay  down  to  rest,  but  I  could  not  sleep;  the 
novelty  of  the  situation,  the  remarks  of  my  stranger 
friend  and  thoughts  of  mother  kept  me  awake.  Then  I 
remembered;  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  had  lain 
down  without  saying  my  prayers.  I  arose  and  tried  to 
pray  one  of  those  elegant  prayers  which  Deacon  Doowell 
prayed  at  our  last  camp  meeting;  but  I  failed  utterly. 
There  was  a  great  lump  in  my  throat,  and  little  liquid 
beads  in  the  corners  of  my  eyes.  Then  I  buried  my 
fac6  in  my  hands  and  murmured  the  old  one  mother 
taught  me  before  I  heard  of  Blue  Corner.  You  may 
know  it.    It  is  so  simple. 

"Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep; 
If  I  should  die  before  I  wake, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  take.'' 

After  this  I  fell  into  a  profound  slumber,  from  which 
I  was  awakened  about  ten  o'clock  the  next  day. 


After  breakfast  I  walked  out  to  see  the  city.  I  had 
not  gone  far  before,  to  my  infinite  pleasure,  I  met 
Kobert  Roller,  the  book  agent.  I  told  him  I  had  come 
to  see  Blue  Corner,  and  would  thank  him  to  inform  me 
how  I  could  best  do  it. 

This  valuable  information  given,  he  advised  me  to 
dress  myself  in  suitable  apparal,  and  to  meet  him  on  the 
grand  Avenue  of  Pearls  the  next  day.    I  then  gave  him 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


49 


lifty  d(jllars  and  requested  liim  to  X3iireliase  siieli  elutliino- 
as  lie  thouu'lit  I  needed. 

He  went  tV)r  the  apparel  and  I  returned  to  my  room. 
In  due  time  he  came  back  with  a  Idack  cloth  suit,  a  pair 
of  shoes,  a  pluii'  hat  and  some  handsome  neckware.  The 
shoes  were  ahout  twcj  sizes  too  laro'e.  the  hat  was  rather 
small,  the  trousers.  l)y  letting'  out  my  susjDenders, 
reached  to  the  tops  of  my  shoes  and  stuck  to  my  legs 
like  a  prize  fighter's  tights,  the  coat  was  large  enough, 
but  the  sleeves  were  far  too  short.  Roller,  however. 
'  convinced  me  of  the  neatness  of  my  appearance,  and  a 
further  descrix^tion  of  my  costume  is  unnecessary. 

The  next  day.  dressed  in  my  new  suit.  I  made  my 
appearance  on  the  grand  Avenue  of  Pearls,  at  the  time 
and  place  ap^Dointed.  I  found  Roller's  place  of  business 
with  ease.  It  i^roved  to  be  a  combination  of  barber-shop 
fixtures,  guitars,  mandolins,  brass  horns  and  other 
things  which  our  uvntlemen  of  leisure  keep  about  them. 
We  sat  in  the  shop  and  talked  of  every  thing  in  general 
and  nothing  specially,  until  I  toldl  him  of  my  dream  of 
the  flagon,  at  which  he  laughed  heartily  and  took  me  up 
a  flight  of  winding  stairs,  into  a  magnificent  room,  with 
frescoed  walls,  carved  furniture  and  beautiful  mirrors. 
In  one  of  the  walls  of  this  room  there  was  a  large  cylin- 
der shaped  thing  with  little  grooves  chiseled  in  it.  and 
near  by  a  cord,  attached  to  a  l^ell  (I  supposed). 

Roller  said.  "Pull  the  c(jrd.  drop  a  dollar  in  the 
groove,  and  say  number  six."  All  of  Avhicli  I  did.  and 
the  thing  revolved. 

Imagine  my  surprise  to  find  the  identical  flagon  of 
my  dreams,  full  of  the  delicious  liquid,  fresh  from  the 
eyes  of  the  tiger,  and  seventy-five  cents  in  change. 
Marvel  not  that  the  thing  wept  liquids  and  change,  for 


50 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


stranger  things  than  this  occur  daily  in  Blue  Corner.  Is 
it  necessary  to  say  that  we  quenched  our  thirst? 

Then  a  thing  Roller  called  an  elevator,  but 
which  I  knew  to  be  a  trap  door,  let  us  clown.  We  re- 
turned to  the  shop  and  renewed  our  conversation.  About 
this  time  some  fine  looking  fellows,  the  elite  of  the  city, 
came  along,  wearing  long  sack  coats  that  struck  them 
below  the  knees  of  their  pantaloons,  and  breeches  that 
reminded  me  of  Aunt  Peggy's  petticoats.  They  also 
wore  plug  hats  and  gold-rimmed  spectacles,  and  carried 
with  them  melodious  stringed  instruments.  One'  of 
them  jumped  into  the  chair  and  said,  ''Come,  Robert, 
old  boy,  give  me  a  shave,"  which  my  friend  did  reluc- 
tantly. After  the  shave  the  fellow  said,  "Charge  that, 
old  boy,"  and  strolled  after  his  companions  into  an  ante 
room  belonging  to  the  shop.  I  sat  there  for  a  long  time, 
talking  to  my  friend  Roller,  and  watching  that  ante 
room,  into  and  out  of  which  these  gentlemen  of  leisure 
were  dropping,  like  flies  around  a  molasses  pitcher. 

After  a  while  my  friend  said,  ''George,  old  boy,  how 
would  you  like  to  go  back  and  see  the  boys?"  Curious 
to  see  what  could  be  going  on  in  that  room,  I  consented 
to  go.  and  in  company  with  my  friend,  I  walked  back  to 
that  little  den  of — ,  well,  I  will  not  describe  the  place. 

Here  we  found  several  well  dressed  and  gentlemanly 
looking  fellows,  seated,  somewhat  like  the  Turk  at  meals, 
around  a  large  green  cloth  sjjread  out  on  the  floor.  They 
had  also  five  or  six  white  and  cubically  shaped  blocks, 
with  little  black  spots  on  them,  which  they  would  shake 
in  their  hands  and  throw  out  on  this  cloth  alternately, 
and  exclaim,  as  they  did  so,  "Ah,  come  seven  or  eleven!" 
as  if  their  lives  dei^ended  on  the  throw  of  those  little 
cubes. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


51 


Notliino-  seemed  easier  than  the  throw  of  those  cubes 
and  so  I  remarked  as  I  watched  the  progress  of  the 
game.  Then  one  of  the  gentlemen  asked  me  to  join 
them  in  the  innocent  amusement,  which  I  did.  just  to 
while  away  the  time.  Another  one  of  them  ottered  to 
bet  me  that  I  could  not  make  a  pass  in  a  month.  I  ac- 
cepted the  challenge:  and  after  I  had  been  instructed  in 
the  intricate  meshes  of  the  '"pass."  by  my  friend  Eoller. 
the  wager  was  struck  and  I  started  out  after  that  difficult 
••pass."'  I  shook  the  cubes  and  threw  them:  threw  them 
and  shook  them,  till  I  forgot  myself  and  was  saying  with 
the  rest,  "Ah.  come  seven  or  eleven!"  But  they  never 
came.  The  money  on  the  green  cloth  grew  larger:  and 
the  bulge  in  my  pocket  book  grew  smaller,  passed  the 
danger  line  and  glided  down  to  the  void  with  a  ven- 
geance. 

Still  I  shook  those  accursed  cubes,  until  large  drops 
of  perspiration  stood  out  on  my  forehead  cold  and  daz- 
zling like  water  dripping  from  a  ball  of  ice  under  a 
burning  sun. 

I  shook  those  cubes  again,  deceptive  cubes,  to  throw 
them  for  the  i3ass.  The  bets  ran  high,  "A  dollar,  five, 
ten.  twenty,  thirty,  fifty  dollars  that  you  do  not  make 
the  pass!"  exclaimed  many  voices  together,  as  I  leaned 
over  on  one  hand  and  my  knees,  with  the  other  hand 
above  my  head  poised  for  the  pass,  repeating  as  I  did 
so,  "Oh.  come  seven  or  eleven!" 

This  is  a  fascinating  if  not  an  innocent  pleasure:  so 
much  so  that  no  one  notes  the  time,  and  little  bits  of 
cash  that  pass  between  his  fingers  while  engaged  in  it. 
The  time  I  might  have  spent  and  the  money  lost  at  it 
would  have  been  immense  had  it  not  been  for  two  gentle- 
men of  the  city  who  came  into  our  presence  unexpect- 


52 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


€dly  and  unannounced.  As  well  as  I  can  remember  they 
were  above  the  average  size,  dressed  in  navy  blue  suits, 
with  brass  buttons  dazzling  down  the  front  of  their 
coats.  They  carried  revolvers  and  heavy  clubs,  and 
wore  a  visage  that  would  have  awed  Satan  himself.  And 
yet,  withal,  they  were  models  of  politeness.  They  de- 
clared the  game  otf,  to  my  infinite  pleasure ;  for  every 
fabric  of  my  nervous  system  w^as  in  a  state  of  rebellion, 
and  my  conscience,  well,  my  conscience — since  I  come 
to  think  of  it — for  the  time  being  I  had  none.  After 
this  they  escorted  us  up  the  main  streets  of  the  city  to 
a  large  palatial  building  with  four  fronts.  This  is  a 
magnificent  building,  with  high  ceilings,  decorated  walls 
and  carpeted  floors:  an  ideal  place  for  the  throwing  of 
those  little  cubes.  They  led  us  on  and  on,  up  winding- 
stairs,  into  a  large  s]3acious  room,  which  one  of  our 
guides  kindly  informed  me  was  the  judgment  hall; 
whereupon  I  asked  him  if  the  game  would  be  decided 
here:  for  you  will  remember  they  held  the  stakes  from 
the  time  we  left  the  ante  room  of  Roller's  shop. 

Arrived  at  the  judgment  hall,  we  were  examined  as 
to  the  state  of  the  game  when  our  friends  in  blue  arrived. 
Most  of  the  boys  engaged  in  it  pretended  that  it  was  in 
fun,  but  I,  being  uninitiated,  told  the  thing  as  it  was,  and 
begged  the  iDroprietor  of  this  i^lace  to  give  me  another 
chance,  as  I  was  young  in  the  game,  and  I  ought  not  to 
be  dealt  with  harshly.  He  rolled  a  pair  of  little  piggish 
eyes  at  me,  and  commanded  order  in  court. 

Whether  from  instinct  or  intelligence -I  know  not, 
but  one  learns  rapidly  in  such  places,  and  I,  being  no 
exception  to  the  rule,  began  to  understand  things:  and 
stood  apart  awaiting  develoi:)ments,  which  were  not  long- 
in  materializing.    The  judge  said,  "'What  say  you  all, 


SKETCHES  EEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


u'liiltY  or  not  LJ'iiilty  "Z"  All  answered  o'uilty  but  me. 
Then  he  turned  to  me  and  said.  "What  say  you.  sir:  how 
do  you  x^lead  to  this  cdiarg'e  of  gamino-y" 

•"There  can  be  no  charge  against  me.  your  honor; 
those  fellows  would  have  my  money." 

•"How  would  they  have  itV" 

•'By  the  throw  of  those  cubes,  sir." 

"Oh  Avell.  you  are  guilty,  too."  Whereupon  we  were 
asked  to  pay  a  small  sum  into  the  school  fund,  and  the 
expense  account  of  the  temple  of  justice.  In  default  of 
which  our  friends  in  blue  and  brazen  buttons  were  to 
conduct  us  further  on  the  inspection  of  Blue  Corner, 
and  the  novelty  of  its  inner  chamber.  I  handed  over 
my  little  contribution,  on  the  advice  of  one  of  our 
escorts,  and  left  our  friends  in  the  tender  toils  of  the 
law.  struggling  to  make  the  pass. 

It  seems  to  me  I  can  hear  that  peculiar  sound.  '•Ah. 
come  seven  or  eleven!"  ringing  in  my  ears  to  this  day. 

I  tell  you  few  men  can  escape  the  fascination  of  this 
peculiar  game.  I  charge  all  to  beware  of  it.  for  nothing- 
else  so  utterly  destroys  the  conscience. 

It  was  sad  to  see  those  long  sack  coats  and  big-leg 
pantaloons  flopping  down  to  the  gambler's  haven  with- 
out a  single  extenuating  circumstance  to  lull  the  tnjubled 
waters.  Roller,  the  barber,  cast  one  long  lingering  look 
at  me.  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  as  the  ponderous  gate 
swung  back  on  its  hinges  to  welcome  him  to  his  new 
quarters.  I  was  overcome  by  x^ity  and  felt  for  my  pocket- 
book,  when  suddenly  I  remembered  the  proverb.  "A 
fool  and  his  uKjiiey  are  soon  parted:"  then  I  gave  him 
my  tears  instead,  for  I  turned  aside  and  wex^t  aloud. 
Why  should  I  not.  after  such  an  innocent  experience? 

In  this  plight  I  was  ab(  ut  to  leave  the  court  rcom. 


54 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


when  I  felt  a  heavy  hand  on  my  arm  and,  looking  up, 
beheld  Mr.  Vasty,  the  police  judge,  who  said,  "This  way, 
young  man,  I  wish  to  speak  with  you.''  He  led  me 
back  to  his  desk,  and  lectured  in  this  manner:  "Young 
man,  I  believe  this  is  your  first  visit  here.  I  hope  you 
will  make  it  your  last.  You  ought  to  have  more  respect 
for  your  parents  than  this.  You  know  what  sacrifices 
they  have  made  to  place  you  on  better  terms  with  good 
and  worthy  men,  and  here  you  are  overtaken  at  last  in  a 
den  of  thieves.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  hard  on  you.  It  is 
painful  to  me  to  inflict  punishment  on  any  one.  It  is 
duty,  not  desire,  that  moves  me.  It  is  among  my  vain  re- 
grets, that  it  has  fallen  to  my  lot  to  see  so  many  young- 
men,  black  and  white,  daily  entangled  in  the  meshes  of 
vice.  Vain  regrets  to  me,  because  I  cannot  persuade 
them  to  stop  before  it  is  too  late. 

"To  me,  gambling  resembles  the  characteristics  of 
the  vampire  bat,  which  spends  the  day  sleeping  in  the 
folds  of  trojjical  flowers  and  when  evening  draws  on, 
flutters  down  from  a  wilderness  of  honey  to  feast  on 
blood.  It  circles  around  its  unsuspecting  victim  and 
fans  him  to  sleej)  with  the  rotary  of  its  perfumed  wings; 
then,  during  his  unconsciousness  it  sucks  away  his 
life  blood;  and  the  morrow  finds  a  carcass  under  the 
fangs  of  the  treacherous  thing.  Such  is  the  vice  of 
gambling.  With  its  alluring  fascination  it  fans  the 
conscience  of  the  young  and  inexperienced  into  repose, 
till  it  steals  away  their  self  respect,  their  manhood, 
their  souls!  I  am  going  to  suspend  this  sentence,  in  so 
far  as  it  relates  to  you;  to  give  you  a  chance  to  redeem 
your  good  name;  but  if  you  are  brought  here  again,  re- 
member, no  mercy  will  be  shown.  Go,  and  let  me  hear 
a  good  re^Dort  of  you."    So  saying  he  handed  back  the 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE 


55 


money  I  had  paid  him;  and  I  walked  out  of  the  court 
room  a  wiser,  if  not  a  better  man. 

A  few  i3aces  brought  me  to  the  Avenue  of  Pearls.  I 
stood  in  its  crowded  ways  solitary  and  alone,  casting 
about  for  a  friendly  face,  in  the  midst  of  the  sea  of 
humanity  which  rolled  about  me  like  the  lashing  of  the 
endless  waters  of  the  deep;  but  all  was  a  shoreless  waste 
of  ocean,  where  the  stately  ships  sail  ouAvard  and  the 
stranded  ones  go  down.  Then  thoughts  of  the  wilder- 
ness, home  and  mother  returned  to  me.  I  heard  a  noise 
of  wings  above  and  looked  up;  the  eternal  arch  of  the 
heavens  deepened,  and  my  fancy  caught  a  glimpse  of 
the  haven  beyond.    Involuntarily  I  repeated: 

"  'Mid  pleasures  and  palaces  though  we  may  roam, 
Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there's  no  place  like  home.'' 

In  the  midst  of  my  dejection  some  one  handed  me  a 
note.    I  opened  it  and  read  as  follows: 

Dear  George: 

Please  come  over  to  the  jail:  I  have  something  of  importance  to 
tell  you.  Robert  Roller. 

I  walked  back  to  the  jail  and  gave  the  signal.  A 
short  stumpy  fellow  thrust  a  head  into  the  entrance. 
Such  a  head!  It  rested  on  a  neck  that  arched  over  a 
roll  of  fat,  its  back  was  i^arallel  with  its  spine;  its  fore- 
head j)rotruded;  its  base  bulged  out  over  little  bits  of 
ears;  its  nose  had  a  crook  in  it:  its  jaws  were  very  prom- 
inent; its  lips  were  very  thin  and  puckered  from  their 
pressure;  and  its  eyes  were  a  cold  steel  gray.  A  further 
description  is  useless,  since  you  know  him  to  be  the 
jailer. 

I  stammered  out  a  request  to  see  one  Robert  Roller. 
He  called  Roller:  and  bade  me  enter.     Roller  came, 


56 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


took  me  aside  and  told  me  his  secret.  He  then  gave  me 
the  keys  to  his  shop,  and  asked  me  to  wind  up  his 
business.  We  shook  hands,  and  I  walked  over  to  the 
shop  and  began  the  imi3ortant  duty  of  closing  out  his 
affairs. 

I  entered  the  shop,  locked  the  door  behind  me,  and 
took  an  inventory  of  its  contents.  Then  I  opened  the 
note  Roller  had  slipped  into  my  X30cket.  It  directed  me 
to  a  niche  in  the  wall  where  I  would  find  a  chart  or  dia- 
gram of  the  place.  I  found  the  chart  without  much 
trouble  and  read  it  over  carefully.  It  contained  start- 
ling revelations  about  imp  doors,  subterranean  passages, 
chambers,  wdne  rooms  and  vaults. 

With  that  chart  in  hand  I  made  for  the  vaults,  as 
directed  by  Roller.  My  way  led  through  the  wine  room, 
where  were  stored  about  forty  barrels  of  different  brands 
of  whiskey  and  wines;  presently  I  came  to  the  vaults, 
applied  the  combination  and  the  door  stood  ajar.  There 
lay  before  my  bewildered  gaze  millions  of  bills  in  de- 
nominations of  fives,  tens  and  twenties;  and  a  keg  of 
gold.  The  gold  was  made  by  the  ilicit  sale  of  whisky; 
and  the  bills  were  made  otherwise. 

During  my  surjDrise  I  heard  a  voice  say,  "Hurry, 
friend,  or  we  shall  never  leave  this  place  alive;"  and 
looking  up  I  beheld  the  gray  eyes  of  the  jailer  looking 
sternly  and  coldly  at  me.  Then  he  moved  over  to  my  side, 
slapped  me  on  the  shoulder,  and  said  in  a  whisper,  "By 
jove!  you  are  a  jewel."  This  gave  me  courage,  and  with 
his  assistance  I  loaded  the  gold  and  bales  of  bills  on 
trucks ;  and  trucked  them  along  the  passage  to  a  -  point 
designated  by  the  jailer's  index  finger.  He  touched  a 
spring  in  the  wall  and  a  trap  door  let  me  in. 

He  then  told  me  that  in  less  than  an  hour  the  officers 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


57 


of  the  law  and  a  detective  would  raid  the  place;  and  that 
his  object  was  to  place  those  valuables  beyond  their 
reach. 

He  then  showed  me  a  Avicket  in  the  wall,  where  I  could 
observe  the  operations  of  those  who  might  come,  with- 
out being  myself  observed;  and  another  trajo  door 
beneath  my  feet,  which  would  let  me  out  should  the 
officers,  by  any  mischance,  locate  the  one  in  the  wall. 
To  tell  the  truth,  I  was  tra^Dped  and  snared  everywhere. 

The  jailer  then  stei3i3ed  into  the  passage,  the  magic 
door  swung  back  to  its  position,  and  the  cavity  in  the 
wall  was  closed.  In  about  an  hour  I  heard  the  noise  of 
many  feet  above,  the  tearing  away  of  fixtures,  the  mov- 
ing of  furniture  and  the  jests  of  the  officers;  and  knew 
that  the  establishment  was  being  plundered.  Presently 
they  entered  the  passage,  led  by  the  jailer,  who  by  the 
way  is  a  kind  of  detective  himself;  and  in  this 
case  he  was  detecting  the  detective.  They  de- 
scended into  the  subterranean  rooms  and  began  investi- 
gating the  wine  room.  The  officers  of  the  city  were 
hilarious  over  their  success  in  cai3turing  the  greatest  il- 
icit  whiskey  establishment  south  of  Tennessee,  and  the 
convivial  ones  among  them  made  themselves  merry  by 
tapx)ing  a  barrel  of  old  Bourbon,  But  the  detective's 
face  wore  a  dejected  grin  and  his  eyes  showed  him  to  be 
foiled. 

They  loassed  along  near  the  trap  door  that  concealed 
me  and  I  heard  the  detective  say,  "T  would  have  bet  a 
million  dollars  that  the  counterfeiters  were  here."  The 
subterranean  walls  threw  back  the  echo  and  they  passed 
on.  The  tension  of  my  nerves  lowered,  I  drew  a  breath 
of  relief  and  sat  down  on  the  keg  of  gold  to  rest,  wonder- 
ing in  my  simple  mind  what  designs  Roller  and  the  jailer 

Dixie— 5 


58 


SKETCHES  EEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


had  on  me ;  for  it  now  began  to  dawn  upon  me  that  they 
were  companions  in  crime. 

About  eleven  o'clock  that  night  the  door  swung  open ; 
and  Roller  and  the  jailer  entered,  bringing  with  them 
two  large  trunks.  I  feigned  sleep;  but  as  a  precaution 
against  my  waking  they  held  a  bottle  of  chloroform  to  my 
nose.  I  lay  there  as  one  dead;  but  I  could  hear  and  see 
everything  that  passed.  After  a  while  the  drug  lost  its 
charm,  but  I  slept  on.  During  my  nap  they  destroyed 
the  moulds  in  which  they  had  manufactured  their  for- 
tune, packed  the  bales  of  counterfeit  bills  into  the  trunks, 
loaded  them  on  the  trucks  and  prepared  everything  for 
immediate  departure.  By  this  time  I  was  fully  awake; 
but  still  pretended  to  be  under  the  influence  of  the  drug. 
Then  they  began  to  discuss  me. 

Said  Roller  to  the  jailer,  "More  than  two  cannot  keep 
a  secret.  What  must  we  do  with  the  simpleton  from 
Glen  Cove?" 

The  jailer  whispered  something  in  his  ear,  and  I  saw 
from  the  iron  in  their  faces  that  they  were  meditating 
my  death.  Roller  drew  a  rope  from  his  pocket,  and  be- 
gan to  look  at  a  beam  overhead,  the  jailer  reapplied  the 
chloroform,  but  to  no  purpose;  in  the  presence  of  death  I 
could  not  sleep. 

They  then  made  a  noose  in  the  roj^e  and  placed  it 
about  my  neck.  The  jailer,  being  the  stronger  of  the 
two,  held  me  up ;  and  Roller  began  to  tie  the  other  end 
of  the  rope  to  the  beam ;  but  while  they  were  hanging 
me,  I  was  hypnotizing  them;  and  they  soon  began  to  re- 
trace their  steps.  When  they  had  untied  me,  I  took  the 
chart,  touched  the  spring  in  the  door,  and  it  swung 
noiselessly  back.  I  then  hurried  the  trucks  and  their 
burden  along  the  passage  to  its  exit,  which  opened  on 


SKETCHES  FKOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


59 


the  banks  of  the  River  of  Pearls;  here  I  found  a  boat 
and  oars.  I  dumped  the  money  aboard,  grasped  the 
oars,  and  shot  down  the  stream  like  a  spectre.  I  never 
heard  of  Roller  or  the  jailer  again.  l)ut  I  sui3pose  they 
are  still  pulling  away  at  that  blind  tiger's  tail. 

Such  is  the  story  of  Blue  Corner,  as  told  to  me  by 
Greorge  Rusticham  himself. 


60 


SKETCHES  FKOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


TO  THE  DAISY. 

NO,  the  cold  damp  earth  could  not  restrain  thee, 
Nor  the  bleak  north  winds  retard  thy  coming; 
For  first  on  the  green  where  the  lambs  are  run- 
ning. 

And  down  where  the  rushing  brooklet  doth  flee, 
In  its  musical  cadence  on  to  the  sea, 

Thy  sweet  face  has  been  modestly  turning 

Its  delicate  features  up  to  the  sunning, 
And  throwing  its  fragrance  over  the  lea, 
In  a  wild  and  most  exuberant  way. 

Oh,  I  love  thee,  wee  blue  eyed  daisy  fair! 
And  I  wish  thou  might  blow  out  there  for  aye. 

Filled  with  loveliness,  perfuming  the  air. 
And  alluring  me  from  the  broad  highway, 

To  gather  garlands  for  my  lady  fair. 

Thou  sit'st  upon  the  meadow's  lap  of  green. 
Like  smiles  upon  the  face  of  a  sleeping  babe, 
And  the  zephyrs  sighing  through  the  everglade, 

Waft  thy  perfumes  to  the  winding  stream 

That  lies  at  thy  feet  a  beautiful  sheen; 

By  the  skill  of  the  Master  cunningly  made, 
To  catch  the  likeness  of  my  dark  eyed  maid 

As  she  gathers  her  garlands  there,  I  ween ; 

Thy  Circean  beauty  bewilders  me. 
For  truly,  I  am  curious  to  know 

Why  the  most  delicate  flowers  that  be. 

Upon  lawn,  heather  and  bough,  should  first  blow, 

Fairest  and  sweetest  in  their  modesty, 
Of  all  the  beautiful  flowers  that  grow. 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


THE  FATE  OF  ALL 

THEY'LL  bring  when  we  are  dead,  perchance, 
Some  flowers  from  their  garden,  friend; 
And  place  them  where  Time's  cruel  lance 
Has  marked  for  us,  for  all,  the  end. 

They'll  drop  upon  our  bier  a  tear. 
And  close  for  us  our  eyes;  and  then 

They  will  leave  us  forgotten  here, 

Till  time  has  run  its  course  with  men. 

If  thought  of  us  survives  a  day, 

A  month,  a  year  or  century. 
Still  we  shall  be  forgot  for  aye; 

For  time  consumes  all  memory. 

If  Love  should  rear  her  shaft  of  stone. 
To  mark  our  little  mound  of  dust. 

The  granitic  fate  too  well  is  known — - 
It  shall  decay  to  mould  with  us. 

A  few  brief  years  may  yet  remain 

To  us  on  this  delightful  shore, 
Then  in  the  silent  land's  domain 

We  shall  rest  in  peace  forevermore. 

The  generations  yet  to  come,  . 

Creation's  vast  immensity. 
Shall  find  with  us  a  common  home, 

For  commonage's  our  destiny. 


62  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 

The  vast  expanse  of  all  the  deep 

Shall  one  day  pause  and  cease  to  roll; 

The  liquid  grave  where  millions  sleep 
Shall  itself  give  up  its  soul. 

When  oblivion  reigns  supreme, 
Down  the  endless  aisles  of  chaos, 

All  things  become  alike  gangrene, 
In  the  land  where  spirit  leaves  us. 

TO  A  JILT. 

X    ^  HY  did  you  not  tell  me  your  heart  is  stone, 
\  k         Where  hope,  nor  joy,  nor  pleasures  abide; 
WW    At  whose  granite  base  lies  broken  my  own. 
Shorn  of  its  faith  and  bereft  of  its  pride? 

Yes,  I  recall,  you  said  something  of  this, 

But  the  light  of  your  eye,  the  smile  of  your  face, 

Led  me  to  confide  in  the  promised  bliss 

You  taught  me  to  seek  of  your  assumed  grace. 

And  I  dreamed  not  that  one  with  features  so  fair. 
And  a  form  which  truly  the  angels  envy, 

Could  weave  so  well  the  treacherous  snare 
Of  vice,  and  pride,  and  perjured  frenzy. 

Fare  thee  well!    Satanic  creature,  adieu! 

Think  no  more  of  him  who  now  tries  to  wean 
His  soul  from  squandering  his  all  on  you — 

Thou  false  in  friendship,  in  wedlock  a  fiend! 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


68 


LINES. 

td  by  the  Assaults  made  on  the  Xegro  Soldiers  as  they  passed 
rough  the  south  on  their  ^vay  to  and  from  our  -Tvar  ^ith  Spain. 

XjrOW  I  love  my  country  yon  have  heard, 
I   I      And  I  would  you  were  noble  and  free 
I   I   In  spirit  and  deed,  as  in  word, 

\^  And  your  boasted  humanity. 

I  love  you,  my  country,  I  do, — 

Here's  a  heart,  a  soul  that  is  thine, 
Pregnant  with  devotion  for  you, 

And  blind  to  your  faults  as  to  mine. 

The  standard  of  morals  is  high; 

When  fixed  by  my  brother  for  me. 
It  goes  towering  up  to  the  sky 

With  a  dazzling  purity. 
For  a  bench  he  sits  on  a  skull. 

And  is  a  judge  austere  and  stern, 
With  whom  my  demurrers  are  null, 

And  my  pleadings,  though  just,  are  spurned. 

I've  carried  your  flag  to  the  front 

Through  pestilence,  battles  and  storms; 
Of  the  carnage  of  war  took  the  blunt. 

Obeyed  your  command,  "Carry  arms!"' 
And  gone  with  you  down  to  the  death, 

With  the  thorns  of  caste  on  my  head; 
Defended  your  home  and  your  hearth. 

And  wept  o'er  the  bier  of  your  dead. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 

As  the  smoke  of  the  fight  goes  by, 

And  the  bugle  calls  to  repose, 
By  my  countryman's  hands  I  die. 

As  well  as  by  the  hands  of  its  foes; 
Yet  I  love  you,  my  country,  I  do, 

Here's  a  heart,  a  soul  that  is  thine, 
Pregnant  with  devotion  for  you, 

And  blind  to  your  faults  as  to  mine. 

MY  LIST  OF  BEAUTIFUL  THINGS. 


LIST  of  my  beautiful  things?" 

Well,  have  you  seen  my  Evylin; 

The  beautiful,  beautiful  Evylin? 
She's  my  list  of  beautiful  things. 


A  world  of  beautiful  things  is  she. 
Grand!  chaste!  personified 
Love  she  stands  in  purity's  pride 

And  thinks  of  me,  and  thinks  of  me. 

Poems  of  ethical  thought  is  she, 
Divinely  sung  on  every  page ; 
All  her  womanly  heart  engaged 

With  love  of  me,  with  love  of  me. 

My  list  of  beautiful  things, 

None  were  ever  so  sublimely  grand. 
To  her  I  give  my  heart  and  hand, 

And  all  the  wealth  my  labor  brings. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


A  MESSAGE  FOR  JANETT. 


■AR  away  where  the  raoino;  sea  goes, 


There  our  brave  and  daring  heroes 


Fou^-ht  the  battles  of  the  free; 
From  the  hands  of  arrogant  Spain 
Stru(?k  the  sword  of  tyranny. 
On  the  plains  of  El  Caney. 

But  o'er  the  halo  of  our  glory 

Falls  the  mem'ry  of  our  brave. 
Stalwart  men.  all  maimed  and  gory. 

Sleeping  in  a  foreign  grave. 
Where  the  grim  Spanish  armament. 

And  her  gallant  men  of  war. 

Threw  death's  missiles  wide  and  far. 

There  among  the  dead  and  dying- 
Lay  a  victim  of  their  rage. 

By  a  Spanish  block  house  lying. 
Amid  the  battle's  carnage. 

He  yields  to  death  while  glory  weeps; 
But  conquers  its  agony. 
And  recks  not  of  its  misery. 

Xow  his  mind  on  fancy's  pinion 

Wings  its  flight  to  friends  and  home, 

Takes  its  leave  of  war's  dominion, 
Flutters  down  the  vista  gloam; 

Till  again  his  friends  and  loved  ones 


In  the  islands  of  the  sea. 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 

Shout  their  welcome  in  his  ear, 
O'er  his  comrade's  martial  cheer. 

But  his  end  came  nearer,  nearer; 

Yet  he  raised  his  manly  head. 
And  in  language  somewhat  clearer 

Called  his  comrade  near,  and  said, 
"Comrade,  if  you  should  live  it  through 

Tell  them  how  we  met  the  Don, 

Fought  for  human  rights  and  won; 

''Strove  to  place  our  standard  higher 
On  the  ramparts  of  the  free, 

Defied  the  Spaniard's  deadly  fire 
And  died  for  humanity; 

Tell  them  of  our  negro  heroes. 
Of  the  valiant  black  brigade, 
And  the  gallant  charge  it  made. 

"You  remember  there's  another, 

Dearer  far  than  all  to  me — 
Comrade,  don't  forget  my  mother, 

For  she  is  all  expectancy. 
Tell  her  that  I  met  death  bravely, 

With  the  red  sod  for  a  bed. 

And  'Old  Glory'  over  head. 

"You  will  find  her  by  the  hearthstone 
Near  the  northern  Mexic  coast — 

Dreaming  that  I'm  coming  home, 
And  the  Spaniard's  cause  is  lost. — 

'What  answer  shall  you  make  to  her?' 
Tell  her  that  she  lost  a  son, 
But  the  day  was  nobly  won. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE 

"Then  you'll  take  a  message  for  me 

To  Janett.  across  the  main: 
There  she's  bravely  Avaiting  for  me. 

But  we'll  never  meet  again 
On  that  undulating  landscape, 

Rolling  onward,  copse  and  lea. 

In  their  rustic  i^urity. 

"Where  a  laughing,  rippling  streamlet, 

Playing  Avith  the  golden  sands, 
Loiters  by  the  peaceful  hamlet, 

Winds  along  the  falloAv  lands. 
Through  a  green  and  varied  landscape, 

There  Janett  awaits  for  me. 

In  a  cottage  near  the  sea. 

'Tn  a  garden,  sweetly  laden 

With  the  roses  neAvly  bloAvn. 
There  the  comely,  gracious  maiden 

Stands  before  her  cottage  home; 
Now  she  moves  across  the  landscape 

Through  the  copse  and  o'er  the  lea. 

See!  she  comes  to  Avelcome  me! 

"You  will  knoAv  her  by  her  lashes. 
Fringing  eyes  as  dark  as  jet: 

And  her  curly  raven  tresses — 
You  can't  miss  my  fair  Janett, 

With  her  beautiful  curved  neck. 
And  the  rare  angelic  grace 
Of  her  motion,  form  and  face." 

Here  his  voice  grcAv  faint  and  broken. 
But  his  face  Avith  rapture  shone. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 

As  he  held  aloft  the  token 

Which  he  through  the  fight  had  borne; 

'Twas  our  old  and  riven  ensign. 
That  his  clotted  blood  did  blur — 
This  the  message  sent  to  her. 

MY  SUBURBAN  GIRL 

I KNOW  a  sweet  suburban  girl, 
She's  witty,  bright  and  brief ; 
With  dimples  in  her  cheeks ;  and  pearl 
In  rubies  set,  for  teeth. 

Beneath  her  glossy  raven  hair 

There  beams  the  hazel  eye, 
Bright  as  the  star  of  evening  there 

Where  the  yellow  sunbeams  die. 

Her  breath  is  like  a  flower  blown, 

In  fragrance  and  perfume ; 
Her  voice  seems  from  the  blissful  throne 

Where  their  harps  the  angels  tune. 

Her  waist  is  just  a  trifle  more 

Than  a  cubit  in  its  girth; 
But  when  there  my  arms  I  throw, 

I've  all  there  is  of  earth. 

And  when  she  turns  her  dimpled  cheek 

Toward  me  for  a  kiss, 
I  lose  expression — cannot  speak — 

And  take  all  there  is  of  bliss. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE 


THE  SOUTHERN  GIRL 

THE  fairest  tliiii^u'  on  land  or  sea 
Is  the  Soiithern  girl,  to  me. 
Yon  should  see  her  v\dien  the  stars 
Come  studding  all  the  sky; 
And  feel  her  beaming  eye 

On  you  ^dien  the  moon  is  full — 
Fairest  of  all  that's  fair  is  she,         '    • . 
The  Southern  girl,  to  me. 

You  should  hear  her  laugh  by  night, 
In  the  moonlight  clear  and  bright. 

When  the  zephyrs  light  and  low. 
Across  the  gardens  steal. 
To  play  with  the  ^larechal-Xeil.  ' 

And  caress  the  beautiful  girl — 
Fairest  of  all  that's  fair  is  she. 
The  Southern  girl,  to  me. 

Beneath  the  Marechal-Xeil  by  night. 
In  the  hush  of  the  dead  twilight. 

You  should  meet  the  Southern  girl;  • 
And  hear  the  angel  sing. 
The  bonny  angel  sing; 

And  feast  on  wit.  and  joy.  and  love — 
Fairest  of  all  that's  fair  is  she, 
The  Southern  girl,  to  me. 

The  vocal  enwoven  beauty 
Of  her  graces  ever  cheers  me. 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


As  I  listen  to  the  cadence 
Of  her  metrical  airs, 
Whene'er  she  trills  and  dares 

Some  melodious  chord  to  make — 
Fairest  of  all  that's  fair  is  she, 
The  Southern  girl,  to  me. 

After  the  wooing  and  merry  days, 
Go  with  her  through  her  toiling  ways, 

As  mother,  and  wife,  and  friend; 
Learn  the  iron  will, 
The  courage  and  the  skill 

Of  the  typical  Southern  girl — 
Fairest  of  all  that's  fair  is  she, 
The  Southern  girl,  to  me. 


OME,  tripping,  tripping,  tripping,  oh, 


And  we'll  tread  the  royal  measure. 


Down  the  aisles  of  wit  and  pleasure, 
Gilding  softly,  sweetly  so. 
On  the  nimble,  nimble  toe. 

Come,  lightly,  lightly,  lightly,  oh! 
Press  me  softly  as  we  go. 
Playfully  skix3ping  to  and  fro, 
As  round,  and  round  we  reel  and  go, 
Gliding  softly,  sweetly  so. 
On  the  nimble,  nimble  toe. 


ELLA'S  DANCE. 


On  the  light  fantastic  toe; 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


71 


FLORA. 

I SOUGHT  her  in  the  woodland 
Where  the  dogwood  blossoms  blow, 
And  thought  I  had  her  cornered 
Where  the  little  rill  doth  flow. 
Laughs  and  sings,  laughs  and  sings, 
Sweeping  over  golden  sands. 
Like  a  living  thing 

On  burnished  silver  wings. 

But  the  cunning  elf  escaped  me, 

And  left  me  standing  there. 
Bewildered  by  the  cadence 

Of  her  music  in  the  air; 

In  the  air,  in  the  air        •  - 
The  poesy  of  nature. 
Struck  by  the  feathered  tribe, 

Ran  lyrical  everywhere. 

Till  fancy  caught  her  smiling 

In  the  budding  of  the  trees,  ; 
Where  tiny  little  leaflets 

L^nfolded  to  the  breeze. 

To  the  breeze,  to  the  breeze, 
When  Flora  came  a-riding 
A  sunbeam  for  a  steed. 

Down  the  floral  highways  of  the  leas. 

And  the  cunning  elf  flew  onward, 
With  magical  little  wand 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE, 


Painting  up  the  butter  cui3s 

Beside  her  as  she  ran, 

As  she  ran,  as  she  ran; 
Till  her  jDrancing  steed  stood  still 
Entangled  in  the  snare 

On  my  lady's  cheeks  of  tan. 

You  cunning  little  elfin, 

I  have  sought  you  ev'rywhere 
To  find  you  'neath  the  tresses 

Of  a  girFs  disheveled  hair; 

Lady  fair,  graced  and  rare. 
When  you  stoop  to  plant  the 'rose 
You  but  set  its  colors 

In  your  cheeks,  my  lady  fair. 


NANNIE  IS  A  BONNIE  MAID. 

NANNIE,  she  is  dearer  far 
Than  all  the  girls  I  know, 
For  when  the  cook  deserts  her  ma 
And  swears  shell  work  no  more? 
She  puts  her  latest  music  by 
And  bakes  an  apple  pie. 

Nannie  is  a  bonnie  maid. 

There's  none  so  neat  and  fair. 

As  she  when  dressed  in  Wesson  plaid, 
And  banged  her  glossy  hair. 

With  all  her  silken  skirts  put  by. 

While  she  serves  the  apple  pie. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


73 


MY  PRAYER. 


Y  Savior,  in  life's  ebb  and  floT^'. 


Through  its  changes  gnard  Thou  me. 


I  am  weak  and  poor  and  blind, 
And  oft  in  my  weakness  I  find 
Vile  sin  has  stol'n  my  peace  of  mind. 
And  driven  me,  Oh  Lord,  from  Thee. 

Eternal  One,  hide  not  Thy  face, 
But  grant  me  mercy,  love  and  grace. 
And  in  Thy  providence  a  place 
Of  security  and  rest. 

I  know  Thou  art  rich  without  me. 
That  one,  God.  the  Spirit  and  Thee, 
Is  th'  eternal  Deity: 

And  angels  are  Thy  worshipers. 

In  Thy  hands  love  and  justice  dwell. 
And  the  hosts  of  light,  earth  and  hell 
Obedient  to  Thy  Avill  must  swell 
The  long  roll  at  the  judgment  call. 

Lord,  I  know  when  the  bleeding  heart 
Looks  up  to  Thee,  Thou  wilt  impart 
L^pon  each  ruxotured  broken  part 

The  soothing  balm  of  Thy  sweet  love. 


In  its  turmoil,  in  its  glow. 
In  its  triumxjh.  in  its  woe. 


Dixie— 6 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 

And  when  estranged  are  all  earth's  friends 
And  the  gloom  of  rejection  still  tends 
To  obstruct  my  way,  Thou  wilt  send 
Me  Thy  comforter  from  above. 

And  if  fortune  at  last  should  beam 
Upon  my  obscure  path,  a  gleam 
Of  sunshine  from  Thy  upper  realm, 
I  know  the  sunshine,  Lord,  is  Thine. 

Lord,  I  would  learn  to  love  mankind. 
Through  love  of  him  a  passage  find 
To  a  rich  and  bright  and  purer  mind, 
And  home  and  rest  at  last  with  Thee. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE,  75 


THE  ABDUCTION  AND  RAPE  OF  THEMIS. 

]T  was  June  2Tth.  Ib90,  when  the  abduction  of  which 
I  am  now  speaking  occurred.  On  the  Monday  fol- 
lowing' this  date  our  court  was  to  have  convened  in 
the  little  town  of  Popular  Swells:  and  at  this  ses- 
sion of  the  court  one  Roderic  Vulcan,  with  others,  were 
to  have  been  tried  for  the  murder  of  Thomas  Ebon, 
Ebon  was  an  industrious  and  well-to-do  fellow,  who  had. 
in  some  unaccountable  way.  incurred  the  displeasure  of 
some  of  his  neig:hbors:  and.  because  of  this  estransre- 
ment.  was  ill  at  ease;  all  the  more  so.  because  of  his 
i.anorance  of  the  offense  said  to  have  been  committed, 

Xo  one  would  inform  him  of  the  cause  of  the  com- 
plaint ag^ainst  him:  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he 
made  strenuous  eff'orts  to  discover  it.  that  he  misrlit  so 
demean  himself  as  to  again  possess  their  good  graces. 

His  eff'orts  were  unavailing.  The  antix^athy  grew. 
ZSIen  passed  him  with  contracted  brows  and  averted  eyes. 
Women  evaded  him.  and  the  children  hooted  at  him  as 
he  xjassed  them:  they  even  pelted  him  with  stones. 

At  last  the  poor  fellow  awoke  one  morning  to  find 
lacked  to  his  door  a  large  placard,  warning  him  against 
longer  residing  in  the  community:  and  advising  him  to 
leave  at  once,  and  to  stand  not  ux^on  the  order  of  his 
going. 

Conscious  of  his  innocence,  and  believing  himself  to 
l^e  in  a  country  whose  government  was  'potent  enough 
to  protect  the  property,  person  and  life  of  its  most  hum- 
Lie  citizen,  he  comx3lained  to  those  in  authority;  but 


76 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


they,  under  time  honored  precedents,  could  do  nothing 
till  some  overt  act  had  been  committed.  About  three 
days  after  the  j)osting  of  the  ominous  placard,  several  of 
those  famous  "Unknown  persons"  came  to  his  home,  and 
began  the  depredations  common  to  Law  and  Order 
Leagues,  and  White  Cappers.  They  succeeded  in  ap- 
plying the  torch  to  his  house,  and,  as  he  was  running 
from  the  flames,  in  killing  him;  but  not  until  he  had 
mortally  wounded  two  of  his  assailants,  and  slightly  in- 
jured others.  Vulcan,  the  mayor  of  Popular  Swells,, 
was  among  the  wounded. 

Incensed,  and  feeling  themselves  outraged  by  an  act 
so  dire,  the  best  citizens  of  the  community  resolved  to 
have  the  guilty  parties  tried  in  the  courts  of  justice,  and 
the  offenders  determined  that  they  would  not  be  so 
ceremoniously  dealt  with.  So  they  conspired  and  brought 
forth  this  atrocious  scheme:  The  abduction  and  rape 
of  Themis.  The  success  of  their  endeavors,  the  wonder 
of  many,  was  brought  about  in  this  way. 

Vulcan,  a  cunning  as  well  as  a  villainous  man,  being 
but  slightly  hurt,  gathered  his  friends.  Bob  Prejudice, 
Jacob  Avarice,  Tom  Calumny,  Joe  Hate,  Leon  Caste, 
Frank  Deceit,  Gabriel  Pride  and  Ed.  Malice,  about  him 
and  laid  before  them  his  plans.  He  concluded  his 
patriotic  appeal  to  them  with  this  peroration:  "Now, 
my  friends,  after  thirty  years  of  active  service  in  this 
way,  u]3on  Ebon  and  his  friends,  we  begin  to  hear 
whispers  of  law,  justice,  good  citizenship,  the  fatherhood 
of  God  and  the  brotherhood  of  man.  as  if  we  had  not  an 
inborn  right  to  chastise  those  whom  our  fancy  singles 
out  as  deserving  it;  that  they  may  be  encouraged  in 
their  obedience  to  our  will,  which,  you  are  aware,  is  the 
law  of  this  community.     Ours  is  the  wish  of  superiors 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


77 


to  inferiors,  and  fate  adjures  them  to  obey.  This  Themis 
brings  a  strang-e  doctrine  to  us,  one  which  will  divest  us 
of  much  pleasure  and,  if  she  is  adhered  to,  may  give  us 
serious  trouble.  She,  however,  is  a  beautiful  being.  I 
am  captivated  with  her  lofty  mien,  her  alabaster  features 
and  her  serene  grandeur  of  x3oise;  yet  she  must  not  pre- 
side when  we  are  in  court  as  defendants.  I  leave  it  to 
you,  my  friends,  to  rid  me  of  this  unstress  of  the  law. 
If  any  of  you,  my  brethern,  have  anything  of  interest  to 
suggest,  it  is  in  order  now.'' 

Whereupon  Caste,  Pride.  Hate  and  Malice  cried  out, 
"We  concur  in  what  your  honor  has  said.  We  have 
nothing  to  add.    We  will  prove  our  faith  by  our  w^orks." 

Then  Prejudice  arose  and  said:  ''I  wish  to  say  that 
I  think  we  shall  make  no  mistake  if  we  edit  a  newspaper. 
Through  it  we  can  i^ersuade  the  pul)lic  to  believe  in  the 
justice  of  our  cause.  Give  us  a  newspaper  with  my  friend 
Calumny  as  its  editor,  and  we  have  nothing  to  fear.  I 
have  faith  in  the  powers  and  irresistable  diplomacy  of 
Calumny.  In  his  hands  the  beings  in  the  Kingdom  of 
Ijight  arebut  chalk.  You  remember  with  what  skillful 
address  he  met  the  son  of  God  in  the  judgment  hall  of 
Pilate.  Then  what  is  man,  poor,  simjDle,  vacillating  man, 
in  his  hand?  If  you  would  seduce  the  public,  and  make 
it  subservient  to  our  will,  put  Calumny  in  charge  of  a 
first-class  newspaper.    To  this  end  I  entreat  you." 

'"It  is  so  ordered.  Is  there  anything  further?"  said 
the  mayor. 

Then  Calumny  began  to  address  them  in  the  follow- 
ing manner:  "If  I  have  had  any  success  in  my  humble 
efforts  in  persuading  the  public  to  do  its  duty,  it  is  be- 
cause I  have  always  had  the  untiring  and  efficient  aid 
of  my  friend  Prejudice.    He  has  ever  been  faithful  and 


78 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


true  to  me.  In  the  historic  scene  he  refers  to,  that 
sublime  tragedy  in  the  hall  of  Pilate,  I  remember  with 
pleasure  how  faithfully  he  acted  his  part.  He  is  a  logi- 
cian whose  arguments  cannot  be  resisted.  No  man  can 
reason  with  him.  If  he  cannot  bribe  the  beings  of 
light,  he  can  so  warp  their  testimony  as  to  (seemingly  ) 
make  them  stultify  themselves;  and  as  for  those  detest- 
able things  known  as  patriots  and  philanthropists,  their 
greatest  deeds  of  valor,  xoatriotism  and  courage,  and  their 
most  sincere  acts  of  kindness  and  humanity,  are  painted 
by  him  so  that  they  appear  as  the  most  atrocious  trea- 
son. He  has  an  eye  for  the  beautiful.  You  should  see 
his  palace!  No  language  can  describe  it!  A  magnifi- 
cent place!  In  it  there  has  not  fallen  a  single  ray  of 
light  since  the  dawn  of  civilization.  It  is  the  only  piece 
of  chaos  reason  cannot  penetrate.  If  we  can  but  con- 
fine this  strange  goddess,  this  Themis,  in  that  rfiaster- 
piece  of  mechanism,  we  are  absolutely  secure.  Give  me 
Prejudice  as  my  business  manager,  and  all  will  be  well." 

Calumny  having  finished  his  remarks,  Vulcan  said: 
"My  friends,  we  must,  if  possible,  persuade  Themis  to- 
abandon  her  rash  course  and  become  one  of  us.  If  we 
fail  in  this,  which  is  very  likely,  then  our  time  honored- 
custom  shall  prevail." 

^  -X-  -X-  -X-  -X- 

It  was  now  one  hour  past  high  noon,  June  27th,  1890. 
Themis,  having  refreshed  herself  with  milk,  honey  and 
dates,  had  returned  to  her  labors,  and  was  meditating  up- 
on the  follies  of  men,  and  how  she  could  best  turn  them 
to  their  own  good,  with  the  least  possible  injury  ta 
themselves. 

I  think  I  hear  her  soliloquizing  thus:  "What  i& 
better  for  all  the  people  than  mutual  tolerance  and  for- 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


79 


bearance  and  laws  which  receive  the  consent  of  the 
governed;  laws  whereof  the  memory  of  man  runs  not  to 
the  contrary;  judiciously  and  impartially  administered 
on  all  alike?"  This,  however,  may  be  but  an  echo  from 
those  defunct  and  cranky  old  fossils,  Kent.  Coke  and 
Blackstone;  or  the  errors  of  my  own  foolish  fancy.  I 
will  relate  what  occurred. 

In  some  mysterious  w^ay  she  called  u^d  Socrates,  the 
wise,  Romulus  and  Justinian  of  Rome;  and  after  ad- 
dressing them  in  a  tongue  unknown  to  me,  she  called  up 
others  from  the  silent  land,  among  whom  were  Alfred 
the  Grreat  of  England,  Washington,  Franklin,  Jefferson 
and  Lincoln  of  America,  and  addressed  them  in  this 
manner:  "Ah,  my  good  friends,  your  theory  of  govern- 
ment, I  fear,  cannot  succeed.  It  does  not,  as  was  ex- 
pected, secure  uniform  justice,  protection  and  oppor- 
tunity for  all  its  citizens.  Many  of  the  most  patriotic 
people  of  America  are  proscribed,  and  their  civil  and 
natural  rights  ignored.  Aliens  are  jDreferred  to  them; 
and  in  some  sections  they  are  iDrohibited  from  laboring 
for  the  common  necessaries  of  life.  It  seems  to  me  that 
our  good  friend  Alfred,  here,  has  devised  a  better  and 
more  humane  government.  Would  it  not  be  better  to 
recommit  America  to  such  a  government? 

"Lincoln,  at  your  request,  and  the  urgent  prayers  of 
many  of  your  people,  a  new  birth  w^as  given  them  at 
Appomattox.  Here  their  prayers  centered  around  a 
single  hope,  that  your  happy  conception  of  government 
should  survive.  The  slave,  the  serf  and  the  menial  have 
no  place  in  the  idea  'a  government  of,  for  and  by  the 
people.'  This  assertion,  a  sublime  definition  of  a  demo- 
cratic form  of  government,  makes  a  clean  sweejD  of  it. 
The  way  must  be  open,  free  and  clear  for  the  ascension 


80 


SKETCHES  FKOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


of  all  alike.  I  do  not  mean  all  men  are  born  into  the 
world  equal  in  intellectual,  physical  and  moral  strength; 
neither  do  I  agree  with  the  absurd  idea  that  the  color  of 
a  man's  skin  should  tilt  the  scales  in  favor  of  his  in- 
telligence and  morality.  To  my  mind  nothing  is  further 
from  the  truth. 

"The  violet  and  the  rose  are  by  no  means  the  same; 
the  delicate  fineness  of  their  beauty  is  graded;  and  he  is 
a  cunning  chemist  indeed  who  discovers  which  of  the 
two  has  the  sweeter  essence.  They  both  spring  from 
the  same  earth,  different  in  their  natures,  it  is  true,  but 
equal  in  their  opportunities  to  blow  a  perfect  violet  and 
a  perfect  rose.  They  are  agreeable  neighbors  in  the 
same  soil;  enjoying  the  same  air,  sunshine  and  showers, 
they  are  happy  in  the  beneficence  of  the  Grod  of  the 
flowers.  Shall  man  expect  less  of  the  Prince  of  Love, 
Who  commands  us  to  consider  the  lilies  of  the  field  and 
the  fall  of  the  sparrows?  And  yet  the  church  proscribes 
its  members.  Governments,  civil  and  ecclesiastical, 
ought  to  conform  to  the  will  of  God,  Who  delegates  to 
them  their  powers. 

"A  government  which  will  not  protect  the  person  and 
property  of  its  citizens  ought  not  to  exist." 

Here  her  visage  grew  stern  and  her  mien  awful; 
Washington's  fingers  clinched  his  sword;  Jefferson  be- 
gan to  write  resolutions;  and  Lincoln,  fearful  of  what 
might  follow,  began  to  rise,  and,  speaking  as  he  rose, 
said:  "I  pray  your  excellency  to  deal  lightly  with 
America,  and  to  remember  that  government  of,  for  and 
by  the  people,  shall  not  perish  from  the  earth!" 

"Oh  Lincoln!  Lincoln!  Lincoln!"  she  exclaimed,  "it 
is  the  wish  of  all  that  this  idea  should  live  forever  ex- 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


81 


emplifiecl  in  the  happiness  of  a  united  and  prosperous 
people,  but — " 

Here  there  was  a  considerable  commotion  in  the 
august  assembly.  Some  one  cried  from  under  the 
throne:  "I  give  my  heart  and  hand  to  this  vote." 
Patrick  Henry  thrust  his  head  from  behind  the  judg- 
ment seat  and  cried,  "Give  me  liberty  or  give  me  death!" 
Jefferson  Davis  came  scrambling  from  behind  the 
tombs  with  the  statue  of  liberty  under  his  arm;  and 
Douglass,  the  grand  old  man,  continued  his  battle  for 
the  oppressed. 

While  he  was  addressing  Themis  I  heard  the  steps 
of  many  persons,  and  looking  up  beheld  Vulcan  and  his 
associates  approaching  her.  They  compassed  her  and 
began  to  address  her  thus:  "May  it  please  your  ex- 
cellency, we  understand  you  will  preside  at  the  next 
session  of  our  court,  and  have  come  seeking  an  inter- 
view with  you,  and  an  understanding  about  a  matter 
which  may  come  before  you  for  adjustment." 

At  this  Themis  became  indignant  and  cried  out: 
"Hold,  Vulcan,  hold!  I  have  heard  of  you  and  yours 
It  is  not  the  business  of  judges  to  hear  causes  in  secret; 
nor  to  acquaint  themselves  with  facts  in  any  case  be- 
fore it  comes  on  for  regular  hearing.  Courts  are  sacred 
things,  and  in  their  impartial  judgment  rests  the  safety 
of  all  the  people.  When  once  the  courts  of  the  land 
recognize  favorites  and  yield  clandestinely  to  the  argu- 
ments of  criminals,  the  security  of  life,  person  and  prop 
erty  is  swept  away,  and  no  man  is  safe.  It  is  the  busi- 
ness of  judges  to  adjudicate  the  laws,  not  to  make,  warp 
nor  twist  them  to  suit  the  exigencies  of  the  classes.  I 
cannot  entertain  you  now,  gentlemen;  but  if  you  will 
meet  me  in  the  court  room,  I  shall  be  pleased  to  listen 


82 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


to  any  extenuating  circumstances  you  may  have  to  offer." 

During  these  remarks  Avarice  seized  her  horn  of 
plenty,  Prejudice  her  golden  scales,  and  Hate  tore  away 
her  imperial  robes.  There  was  riot  in  the  imperial 
chamber.  Themis  resorted  to  violence  rather  than  argu- 
ment in  defense  of  her  person;  but  to  no  purpose;  the 
conspirators  laid  violent  hands  upon  her,  and  dragged 
her  away  to  the  palace  of  Prejudice,  the  grandeur  of 
which  has  been  described  before.  Here  they  bound  her 
with  the  chains  of  Flattery,  and  placed  Prejudice  on 
guard  at  the  door.  She  was  now  at  the  mercy  of  Pre- 
judice, and,  lying  still  bound,  he  outraged  her;  where- 
upon, in  due  time,  she  conceived  and  brought  forth  that 
hydra,  Judge  Lynch. 


SKETCHES  .FEOM  LIEE  IX  DIXIE 


BIOGRAPHIA. 

I SAW  sweep  out  of  rlie  iiiiknowii 
A  worthy  sunlit  Ijark.  alone. 
By  eddies  dallied  and  then  thrown 
Down  with  Life's  stream. 

And  on  its  frail  thouadi  radiant  prow. 
"Consio-ned  to  the  unknown  art  thou."" 
Was  stamped  by  Him,  AVho  then,  as  now. 
Directs  the  end, 

There  went  with  it  a  beiny-  of  hope — 
A  radiant  beinu'  of  ho^^e, 
An  ethereal  philanthrope. 
Somewhat  divine, 

She  steered  the  craft  hard  by  the  shore — 
I  heard  the  stroke  of  her  u'olden  oar. 
The  silver  thread  of  the  streamlet  o"er 
Throwing  the  spray. 

Her  carg-o  was  of  jewels  rare. 
All  luminous,  splendid  and  fair: 
The  ensio-n  of  a  prince  was  there 
Undoulitedly. 

Methinks  I  saw  his  armor  there, 
Brilliantly  g-rand.  superb  and  rare. 
Whose  shield  was  beaming'  ev"rywhere, 
Like  a  coronet. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 

And  through  the  hehnet  of  his  robe 
Two  luminous  orbs  lit  his  abode, 
And  like  the  fixed  stars  brightly  glowed 
Continuously. 

And  near  this  dazzling  light  appears 
A  blazing  meteor  beneath  the  spheres, 
Expression's  guide  of  joy  and  fears 
Incased  in  pearl. 

This  pearly  armament's  support 
Is  cunningly  built,  a  coral  fort 
Compassed  with  ruby  fleets,  which  float 
'Round  there  for  aye. 

And  when  its  florid  portals  oped. 
The  cadence  of  the  prince  awoke 
The  music  Mother  Eve  evoked 
In  Paradise. 

Then  the  stream,  grand,  masterly  stream, 
Moved  swiftly,  silent  and  serene. 
The  bark  and  its  fair  guide  between, 
To  run  the  falls. 

But  still  she,  with  her  skillful  hand, 
E'er  taught  the  tottering  craft  to  stand 
The  strain  and  shock  of  the  rocky  strand 
Which  lies  below. 

Where  the  stream  runs  its  merry  race 
Of  rapid,  smooth  and  subtile  grace. 
The  craft  leaped  o'er  the  falls,  to  face 
The  surge  and  whirl. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE 


85 


Of  the  deep,  the  2:rand  and  awful  wave, 
Where  the  frothy  waters  toil  and  rave 
On  in  their  course,  as  they  eno-rave 

Their  history.  '  ^ 

And  bickers  on  by  sunlit  hills. 
Where  Vanity  Fair  the  passion  fills. 
And  pomxDous  pride  in  the  breast  instills 
A  new  desire. 

Then  out,  and  'round  the  slijDXDery  curve 
Where  bold  Maturity's  heio'hts  subserve 
The  channel  to  deepen,  and  to  swerve 
Its  rapid  tiiuht. 

Then  down  the  ruu'u-ed  precipice. 
Through  the  whirling'  pools  of  Error's  bliss, 
Where  the  troubled  waters  seethe  and  hiss 
A  flood  of  tears. 

Here,  where  youth's  border  land  appears. 
The  gallant  oarsman  drops  his  fears. 
And,  king-like,  o'er  the  floods  he  rears 
His  stately  head. 

Then  through  green  fields  and  sunny  climes, 
Where  Cupid's  violin  strikes  the  chimes 
Of  melody's  tunes  and  happy  rhymes. 
The  river  runs. 

Till  o'er  its  purling  waters  came 
The  splash  of  golden  oars  again.  -  . 

Dashing  the  sih'er  spray  like  rain 
From  Cupid's  prow. 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


Where  Evylin  sat,  an  angel  bright, 
A  fair,  celestial  angel  bright. 
Guiding  another  bark  of  light 
Through  Love's  domain; 

Where  moon,  and  stars,  and  earth,  and  air 
Seemed  covered  with  the  mystic  snare. 
Which  Cupid  throws  to  catch  the  fair 
Angelic  thing. 

As  she  sweeps  down  the  silver  stream 
Beneath  the  glow  of  beauty's  beam, 
W^ith  hope's,  and  love's,  and  fancy's  gleam 
Of  wild  delight. 

Steering  for  that  semi-paradise. 
To  the  land  where  experience  lies. 
Where  truth  and  wisdom  harmonize 
Youth's  fervent  fires. 

Here  many  a  green  isle  appears. 
Along  the  stream,  where  the  sunny  years, 
Of  conjugal  life  devoutly  wears 
Contentment's  crown. 

Till  the  stream  impetuous  grows, 
And  pride,  deceitful  pride,  blows 
His  clarion  horn  and  goes 
About  the  sails. 

Of  ev'ry  ship  which  daily  files, 
Adown  the  stream  by  the  sunny  isles; 
Where  with  them  all  fame  flies  and  smiles 
Bewitchingly. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


Just  flies  and  smiles:  beu'uiles  and  tries 
To  lead  all  "neatli  the  sunny  skies, 
With  windy  inconsistencies 
Otf"  tht^  Isles  of  Peace. 

Till  Ambition  comes,  an  oarsman  dark. 
A  stern,  deceptive  oarsman  dark. 
And  takes  possession  of  the  bark.  ■ 
And  rows  blindly  on. 

Where  all  the  floods  become  untied 
And  pour  their  torrents  far  and  wide. 
From  mountain  side  to  mountain  side, 
Througdi  the  dismal  swamp. 

Aml^ition's  meed,  dark  discontent, 
And  Fame's  worthless  emolument,  . 
JSo  often  pledged,  but  seldom  sent, 
Till  this  good  day. 

Till  the  sx^lendor  of  the  old  bark's  glow. 
Which  all  well  knew  in  that  long  ago, 
Is  storm-driven  so  till  we  scarce  know 
What  'tis  or  does. 

But  I  saw  it  with  the  billows  toil. 
When  the  turl^ulent  stream's  rough  turmoil 
Did  its  fair  prospects  taunt  and  foil. 
And  roll  grumbling  on. 

Through  bold  tornadoes  it  had  gone; 
I  saw  the  rent  where  Calumny's  storm, 
Swept  through  the  sails  and  then  hissed  on 
Relentlessly.  - 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 

But  the  bark  was  a  kingly  one, 
It  weathered  the  storms;  I  saw  it  run 
Grappling  with  the  stream  and  overcome 
The  vicious  winds 

That  stormed  along  the  malignant  strand, 
Just  where  looms  up  the  goodly  land 
Of  Fame's  domain  and  Fancy's  grand 
Expectantcy. 

Again,  I  saw  it  sail,  and  sail. 
Proud  and  defiant  with  the  gale. 
With  hope,  iron  will,  and  nerves  of  mail 
Combatting  the  fates. 

Where  the  stream  runs  purling  swift  and  strong 
In  its  murmuring,  liquid  song- 
Breaking  hope,  and  will,  and  nerves  along 
The  cataract. 

And  still  the  craft  sped  with  the  wave. 
On  the  crest  of  the  billows  laved. 
Nor  heeded  the  omnivorous  grave 
That  yawned  below 

Where  the  river  bold  grew  deep  and  wide; 
Till  it  so  placidly  seemed  to  glide. 
That  its  deceptive  waves  belied 
Its  rapid  flight. 

To  the  grand  and  deep  qld  ocean  wide, 
Rolling  in  all  its  majestic  pride, 
Until  the  crest  of  its  hoar  tide 
The  river  met. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


89 


There  it  eddied  as  if  it  would  be  still. 
And  the  oarsman,  infirm  and  ill. 
Furled  his  sails,  surrendered  his  will. 
And  crossed  his  oars. 

For  that  ruby  bulwark,  strong  and  bold, 
And  those  luminous  orbs — now  cold — 
Swing  to  and  fro,  a  ruin  old. 

Sacked  at  last  by  Time.  •  '  . 

Who  stands  Death's  oceanic  mien! 
However  mute  the  winds,  bright  the  sheen, 
Or  xDeacefully  lulled  the  marine 
Which  decoys  him? 

And  if  the  zephyrs  do  play  low, 
Light,  soft  and  smooth  the  deep  sea  o"er 
They  but  waft  the  bark  and  its  cargo 
Into  port. 


Dixie-7 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


AFTERWARD. 

I'M  all  alone  in  the  world,  now, 
My  bonnie  love  has  flown; 
My  heart's  an  empty  void,  now. 
Where  the  wreck  of  joy  is  strown 
For  o'er  her  grave,  the  tombs  between. 
The  grass  is  growing  green. 

I'm  sad  tonight!    I  did  not  know 

How  dear  she  was  to  me; 
How  fervent  was  her  passion's  glow. 

Her  love's  sincerity; 
Till  o'er  her  grave,  the  tombs  between, 
The  grass  was  growing  green. 

I  would  I  could  see  her  face  again. 
That  furrowed  face  of  care, 

That  I  might  woo  away  the  pain 
My  coldness  chiseled  there; 

And  lie  for  her  the  tombs  between. 

Where  the  grass  is  growing  green. 

I  somehow  feel,  since  she  has  gone. 

That  negligence  is  crime: 
That  I  am  guilty  of  this  wrong 

To  my  eyelids  brings  the  brine: 
Since  she  lies  cold  the  tombs  between, 
Where  the  grass  is  growing  green. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


AGFS  REJOINDER. 

1 WOULD  not  live  always: 
I  ask  but  to  stay" 
In  this  vain  world  of  shadows 
Just  another  day; 
By  that  other  day  I  mean 

Three  score  years  and  ten, 
Then,  perhaps,  1*11  take  my  leave 
Willingly,  of  men. 

Yet,  if  it  suits  my  Lord 

To  lengthen  the  thread 
That  tethers  me  to  earth's  shores, 

A  few  more  years  instead, 
Contentedly  Idl  plod  on — 

With  my  crutch  and  cane 
Bear  the  weight  of  four  score  years, 

And  not  complain. 

Live  always?    Of  course  not! 

But  I'd  like  to  see 
My  span  of  years  reeling  down 

To  the  century. 
"What  about  my  absent  friends, 

And  rheumatic  foe?*' 
I'll  forget  those,  this  endure, 

A  year  and  a  day  more. 


92 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


LOCOMOTION  ON  CORKS. 

THINGS  are  not  always  what  they  seem.  You  walk 
along  our  streets  and  look  up  at  massive  structures 
of  wood,  brick  and  stone,  where  beauty  has  been 
left  by  the  hand  of  educated  and  skilled  labor.  You 
stop  to  admire;  and  sweet  strains  of  music  float  down 
from  them  on  perfumed  air,  which  sweeps  playfully 
through  flower  gardens  hard  by. 

This  deceives  you,  and  you  imagine  the  occupants  of 
those  immense  piles  live  and  move  in  Elysian  fields  of 
happiness  and  ease.  Let  me  undeceive  you;  that  music 
is,  indeed,  from  the  children  of  the  rich;  but  they  are 
bidding  adieu  to  the  pleasures  of  youth  unawares.  They, 
like  their  parents  and  you,  shall  soon  be  treading  the 
treacherous  ways  of  life,  and  find  at  last  that  the  calami- 
ties of  the  mansion  and  hut  are  almost  identical:  the 
owners  of  each  are  struggling  for  existence  in  their  own 
little  spheres. 

Most  of  us  are  pursuing  phantoms  where  the  bland- 
ishments of  life  allure. 

As  man  ascends  toward  the  altitude  of  earthly  great- 
ness, his  desires  multiply.  He  is  never  satisfied.  His 
life  is  a  i3rolific  source  of  trouble,  and  his  end  a  shadow 
over  which  memory  hovers  a  moment  and  then  deserts 
him  forever.  The  rich  find  it  hard  to  locate  the  gates 
of  Heaven, — that  is,  to  find  happiness.  All  they  get 
from  the  inventory  of  fortune  is  what  they  eat,  drink 
and  wear,  the  feast  of  their  eyes  and  the  worry  of  their 
souls.  The  poor  are  miserable  because  they  would  be 
as  the  rich. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


98 


The  contention  of  all  is  not  the  needs  of  Economy: 
Init  the  demands  of  Extravau-ance.  T\'e  exhanst  our- 
selves in  the  pursuit  of  a  phantom,  and  seek  repose  on 
a  bed  of  roses,  unmindful  of  the  fact  that  the  thorns  art^ 
there.  These  are  the  thoughts  which  came  to  me.  as  I 
sat  brooding  ovt-r  the  history  of  lit^r  lost  leg. 

You  would  hear  no  more  of  these  vague  and  indefinite 
thouoiits:  but  the  story  of  Locomotion  on  Corks".'  Well, 
here  it  is:  .  • 

Some  years  ago  I  was  traveling  over  the  Louisville. 
Xew  Orleans  and  Texas  Eailrrjad.  I  think  it  was 
December  24th.  1^^9,  "\A'e  boarded  the  cars  at  a  little 
station  some  miles  out  from  G-reenville.  Mississippi.  As 
well  as  I  can  rememlier  the  place  is  named  Burdett. 

Several  jjersons  entered  the  cars  at  this  place,  among 
them  a  gentleman  with  a  pig  in  a  bag.  What  I  saw 
aboard  this  train  is  among  my  vivid  recollections.  That 
man  was  like  the  pig  he  carried — a  hog  pure  and  sim^Dle. 
Among  the  other  passengers  of  this  car  was  a  young- 
lady  of  au-reealde  manners  and  rare  beauty.  Behind  her 
sat  an  elderly  lady,  who  had  a  pair  of  ganders  with  their 
long  necks  stickinu'  throuodi  holes  in  a  bag:  and  in  front 
of  her  sat  a  man  who  was  the  hapx:iy  (jwner  of  a  l:)race  of 
coon  dogs  The  dogs  were  chained  together,  and  lay 
partly  in  the  aisle  of  the  car  and  partly  under  the  seat. 
Further  down  the  aisle  two  or  three  fellows,  who  had 
seen  the  saloons  of  Greenville,  wt^re  standinu".  or  rather 
trying  to  keep  their  equilibrium  on  the  nov-  moving- 
cars.  These  youno-  men  were  jovial  and  full  of  life. 
They  seemed  to  lie  out  on  an  excursion  of  pleasure. 
For  that  matter,  hciwt^ver.  no  cme  who  partakes  of  the  en- 
chantments of  thebeautif  ul  little  eitycan  well  do  otherwise. 


94 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


Fashionable  jDlaces  are  its  saloons,  and  for  convivial 
refreshments  there  is  none  better. 

"Miss,  can  I  sit  by  you?"  growled  the  man  with  the 
pig;  and  without  waiting  for  an  answer  he  dropped  into 
the  seat  beside  her.  All  were  now  seated  but  our  con- 
vivial friends,  and  they  were  trying  to  keep  their  bodies 
erect ;  in  this  vain  effort  one  of  them  stepped  upon  the  dogs 
in  the  aisle  and  they  yelped  of  distress  and  frightened 
the  pig,  which  made  its  presence  felt  by  rapid  grunting; 
this  disturbed  the  ganders,  and  they  reached  out  their 
long  necks  and  pecked  alternately  at  pig  and  dogs. 

The  young  lady,  being  of  a  nervous  disposition, 
naturally  grew  alarmed.  She  appealed  to  the  conductor 
for  aid;  but  he  was  busy  collecting  tickets  and  passed 
into  the  car  beyond.  Whereupon  the  man  with  the  pig 
said,  "Keep  quiet  thar,  Miss,  or  I'se  gwine  to  hurt  som' 
un.  Stop  kicken  dat  ar  ijig.  I'se  gitting  mighty  tired 
ob  dis  here  thing;  'deed  I  is.  Wheneber  I  gits  on  dis 
here  cyar,  some  un  ob  you  high  fliers  comes  along  and 
"sturbs  me.  You'se  so  awfully  nice  dat  a  man  can't  git 
on  board  de  cyars  wid  his  property,  but  dat  you  is  cur- 
lin'  your  lips  in  scorn.  Dis  thing  am  got  to  stop,  do 
you  hear?" 

This  fell  like  melted  metal  on  the  nerves  of  the 
young  lady.  She  grew  frantic  and  cried  aloud,  "Will 
not  some  one  rid  me  of  this  fiend?'*  And  in  trying  to 
escaj^e  she  fell  across  a  seat  and  sprained  her  arm. 

One  of  the  convivial  gentlemen  went  to  her  assis- 
tance, aided  her  to  a  seat,  and  tried  to  console  her;  and, 
between  his  little  hiccoughs,  succeeded  fairly  well-.  His 
companions  did  not  do  so  well  with  the  old  man  with 
the  pig.    Their  efforts  to  quiet  him  failed.    Then  they 


SKETCHES  FKOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


95 


(Irag-ged  him  to  the  aisle,  and  began  to  flog  him  immer- 
cifuiiy. 

The  confusion  grew,  the  pig  squealed,  the  dogs 
barked  and  the  geese  cackled.  About  this  time  the 
whistle  blew,  the  bell  rang,  and  the  porter  thrust  his 
head  into  the  car  and  cried  out.  "Ar-co-la!  All  out  for 
Areola."  The  train  stopped  and  people  began  to  crowd 
into  the  car.  Among  them  were  the  othcers  of  the  law. 
They  soon  relieved  us  of  the  confusion,  menagerie  and 
all.  ^ 

As  they  led  the  old  man  from  the  car,  it  became 
evident  that  he.  too.  had  seen  the  saloons  of  Greenville: 
for  he  began  to  spew,  and  to  swagger  around  distress- 
ingly. 

After  some  moments  the  ponderous  wheels  of  the 
powerful  machine  rolled  over,  the  bell  rang,  the  steam 
sizzed  and  we  moved  out.  Avith  the  lights  of  Areola 
flickering  behind  us. 

Then  the  old  woman,  who  we  thought  had  left  the 
car  at  Areola,  came  scrambling  from  under  the  seats. 
She  looked  around  for  her  geese,  but  the  birds  were  no- 
where to  be  found.  They  had  taken  the  wings  of  the 
evening  and  flown  to  parts  unknown.  She  felt  her  loss 
keenly.  Then  I  learned  the  true  value  of  a  Christmas 
dinner,  and  the  confusion  its  loss  can  ijroduce.  The  old 
lady,  thinking  of  the  toothsome  viands  of  tomorrow,  ex- 
claimed. "Oh!  I  have  lost  my  Christmas  dinner!  What 
will  the  children  do?"  She  ran  toward  the  door,  fell, 
and  broke  her  leg.  She  was  left  at  the  next  station, 
where  she  was  properly  cared  for.  We  then  rattled 
along  the  rail  without  further  trouble. 

Some  weeks  later  I  was  summoned  to  court  to  testify 
against  the  railroad  company,  in  favor  of  an  old  lady,  in 


96 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


a  suit  for  ten  thousand  dollars — -damage  sustained  by 
her  in  her  vain  pursuit  of  a  pair  of  ganders. 

It  is  astonishing  to  what  enormous  proportions  a  little 
incident  like  the  breaking  of  an  old  lady's  leg,  by  mere 
accident,  to  which  her  own  indiscretion  had  altogether 
contributed,  can  be  expanded,  under  the  creative  genius 
of  a  shrewd  lawyer. 

I  confess  that  after  I  heard  the  lawyers  describe 
that  scene,  upon  the  testimony  I  had  myself  given,  and 
which  I  thought  would  have  exonerated  the  company,  I 
believed  the  company  guilty  of  extreme  negligence.  So 
convinced  was  I  of  the  negligence  of  the  company,  that 
I  actually  apologized  to  her  lawyers  for  not  being  more 
pronounced  in  my  statement  in  her  favor;  notwithstand- 
ing the  fact  that  I  knew  at  the  time  of  my  testimony, 
and  I  know  now,  that  the  company  was  guilty  of  no  neg- 
ligence in  this  case. 

The  jury  returned  a  verdict  in  favor  of  the  old  lady. 
The  case  was  appealed,  and  vibrated  between  the  courts 
for  many  terms,  till  she  got  tired  of  her  crutch,  and  com- 
promised for  attorney's  fees  and  a  light,  artistic  wood- 
en leg.  To  sum  up  the  whole  matter,  her  attorneys  re- 
ceived two  thousand  dollars,  I  received  fifty  dollars' 
Avorth  of  witness  certificates,  which  I  have  never  been 
able  to  collect;  and  the  old  lady  received  an  artificial  leg. 

-She  took  her  leg  and  departed.  I  thought  no.  more 
about  her  for  a  long  time;  but  one  day,  as  I  sat  in  my 
office  during  one  of  those  melancholy  depressions  which 
will  come  to  most  of  us,  she  flashed  linto  my  mind;  and 
I  could  not  put  from  me  the  scenes  I  have  narrated 
here:  when  suddenly  there  was  a  great  noise  and  com- 
motion in  the  streets  below.  I  ran  to  the  window  and 
looked  out.     Men,  women  and  children  were  running 


SKETCHES  FKOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


97 


about  the  streets  in  the  wildest  confusion.  The  news- 
boys were  runnino-  to  and  fro  the  crowded  streets,  yell- 
ino-  at  the  top  of  their  voices.  "Here's  yonr  daily  even- 
ing Chronicle.  Extra!  All  about  yellow  fever  in  the 
city!"'  My  lingers  buried  their  nails  into  the  palms  of 
my  hands,  and  my  hair  stood  tiptoeing  on  my  head;  in- 
voluntarily I  exclaimed.  "The  pestilence!"  and  sat  down. 
Then  there  came  a  message  from  my  wife  urging  me  to 
take  her  out  of  the  city,  to  which  I  gave  my  hearty  con- 
sent. I  then  called  on  the  ticket  agent  and  found  out  at 
what  time  the  next  train  would  leave  for  Chicago.  The 
agent  answered  promptly.  "At  three  fifteen  P.  M.:  and 
all  trains  will  stop  at  Newman's  Switch,  two  miles  north 
of  the  city."  After  purchasing  our  tickets  I  hired  a  cab 
and  sent  after  my  wife:  with  instructions  for  her  to  meet 
me  at  Newman's  Switch,  at  three  o'clock.  I  then  nailed 
down  my  windows,  locked  my  doors  and  with  my  valu- 
able papers  under  my  arm.  I  walked  across  the  street  to 
my  banker,  deposited  them  and  drew  a  check  for  five 
hundred  dollars.  It  was  now  forty-five  minutes  after 
two.  I  mounted  my  wheel  and  rode  leisurely  down 
Main  Street,  until  I  reached  Railroad  Avenue.  Here  I 
met  the  cab-man.  who  told  me  that  my  wife  was  at 
Newman's  Switch  waiting  for  me.  After  leaving  him  I 
hurried  o&  for  the  Switch.  Now  if  there  is  anything  on 
earth  at  which  I  am  proficient,  it  is  in  riding  a  bicycle. 
I  leaned  forward,  applied  my  strength  and  moved  along 
the  avenue  like  a  winged  thing. 

About  a  mile  out  from  the  city  I  saw  a  female  figure, 
afoot,  turn  into  the  high  road,  reach  down  and  gather  ui3 
her  skirts  and  strike  boldly  out  for  the  Switch,  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  distant.  I  undertook  to  catch  her:  a 
little  more  pressure  on  the  pedals  and  a  deeioer  curve  in 


98 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


my  spine  and  the  city  dropped  behind  me  like  the  fall  of 
a  detached  kite;  but  the  lady  bounded  along  ahead  of 
me  like  a  spirit.  A  moment  more,  however,  and  I  over- 
took her.  I  slowed  up  a  little,  raised  my  hat,  and  was 
passing  in  triumph,  when  I  struck  a  sharp  instrument 
in  the  road  and  punctured  my  wheel;  I  dismounted  and 
she  passed  me. 

We  were  now  not  more  than  three  hundred  yards 
away  from  the  Switch.  I  threw  the  bicycle  across  my 
shoulder,  and  started  out  after  that  woman  again.  Her 
speed  seemed  supernatural.  I  overtook  her  only  when 
she  politely  asked  some  one  at  the  station  "if  the  train 
was  on  time?" 

Then  she  turned  to  me  and  said,  "Mr.  Roland,  I  am 
glad  to  see  you.  How  have  you  been  getting  along 
since  last  we  met?" 

Imagine  my  great  surprise  to  find  in  her  the  old 
lady  with  the  cork  leg. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


99 


LINES  TO  MR.  

FRIEXD.  must  we  x^art  and  part  f(jrever? 
The  spell  that  bound  our  hearts  is  broke — 
Did  I  say  •  "friend* Excuse  me.-  d^rother: 
I  would  the  word  I'd  never  spoke. 

And  brother,  too.  I  should  forg-et. 

Since  you  the  sacred  tie  would  spurn 
T"  indulg-e  the  passions  which  have  met 

"Round  our  friendship's  liroken  urn. 

And  yet  it's  hard  and  passinci'  strange 
That  one  brief  hour  should  sever  us: 

And  that  a  broken  pledge  should  change 
Hearts  for  a  thing  so  odious. 

But  I  had  learned  to  trust  you  so — 
Thought  you  so  far  above  mankind. 

So  noble,  and  so  true — when,  lol 
Deception's  wand  strikes  you  blind. 

Blind  to  all  that  we  used  to  be. 

Blind  to  all  that  we  ought  to  be, 
Blind  still  to  yourself  and  me — 

Blind  even  to  vile  treachery. 

But  should  fortune  e'er  desert  yon. 

Fate  mark  for  you  a  rugged  lot. 
For  what  you  ought  to  be  I'll  serve  you, 

And  of  your  treachery  think  not.         -  - 


100 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


STRIKE  FOR  EQUAL  RIGHTS. 

THINK  of  the  price  of  liberty, 
Think  of  the  lash  and  slavery, 
Of  lynch  rule  and  its  massacre 
And  strike  for  equal  rights. 

Say,  must  we  longer  trust  the  law, 
Class-enacted  to  hide  the  flaw 
Of  the  crimson  hand  that  strikes  to  awe 
And  terrorize  us  into  slaves? 

Let  him  who  trembles  or  has  fears. 
When  the  cowardly  mob  appears, 
Receive  a  coward's  meed  and  tears. 
Death  and  a  piece  of  hemp. 

Where  the  American  who  would  be 
A  renegade  to  liberty; 
Because  of  fear  would  turn  and  flee. 
When  duty  calls  him  here. 

He  should  be  yoked  and  bound  for  aye, 
As  long  as  night  succeeds  the  day — 
For  liberty  can  only  stay, 
The  meed  of  valiant  men. 

He  who  fears  not  the  mob's  alarm: 
To  him  who  would  the  traitors  storm, 
And  fell  them  with  a  valiant  arm. 
Behold  a  freeman's  meed! 


;ketches  feom  life  ix  dixie. 


Come  the  valiant,  and  come  the  brave, 
Come  all  except  the  ahject  slave- 
Let  him  fall  in  a  loondnian's  Li'rave — 
And  strike  for  liberty  I 

Come  all  the  law  al:)idino\  come. 
Where'er  throuo-hoiit  the  earth  yon  roam. 
And  strike  for  native  land  and  home, 
For  God  and  sacred  life. 


WHILE  THE  WALTZ  IS  ON. 


■RE  the  banquet's  ovfr.  love, 


Before  the  o-arlands  wither,  love. 


While  the  waltz  is  on. 
Whisper  softly  in  my  ear 
Love's  melody,  my  dear.  -. 

While  the  waltz  is  on.  my  dear, 

And  the  music's  roll 
Echoes  throu^di  the  hall  so  clear. 

So  happy  makes  the  soul. 
As  we  reel  and  turn  and  whirl 
Say  yes.  my  bonny  ^irl. 

Ere  the  dance  is  done,  sweetheart. 

Before  the  music  dies. 
Make  me  g-lacl.  before  we  part. 

Comx^lete  my  paradise; 
Just  before  the  music's  .eone. 
And  while  the  waltz  is  on, 


And  the  stars  are  gone: 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


THE  MUSIC  OF  THE  RAIN. 
pVHERE'S  music  in  tlie  rain, 


I         And  its  monotonous  tap,  tap 

Beats  on  the  window  pane; 
Or  murmuring  it  stops 

A  moment  on  the  dripping  eaves. 

There's  music  in  the  rain 
When  it  falls  the  leaves  among, 
And  spatters  in  the  viney  nooks 
And  sparkles  on  the  grain; 
All  earth  has  found  a  tongue, 
And  its  loud  hallelujahs  ring. 

Oh!  the  music  of  the  rain. 
See  it  comes  pouring  down, 

Bright  and  joyous  o'er  field  and  plain, 
While  its  golden  currents  drain 
The  smooth  and  verdured  lawn, 

And  then  run  bickering  to  the  main. 

There's  music  in  the  rain. 
When  all  the  winds  arise. 

And  livid  lightning  marks  the  path 
Of  the  dread  hurricane; 
While  in  the  clouded  skies 

Old  thunder  beats  the  martial  airs. 


As  on  the  roof  it  drops. 


There's  music  in  the  rain 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


103 


When  all  the  winds  are  still, 

When  lightning's  flash  and  thunder's  roll 
Are  stilled  and  mute  again; 
And  you  feel  the  heart's  thrill 

When  the  storm  cloud  goes  racking  by. 

There's  music  in  the  rain 

When  the  clouds  are  clearing  off, 

And  sunny  beams  come  struggling  through 
The  silver  of  the  rain, 

W^here  hope's  arch  stands  alof ' 
In  the  reflux  of  the  storms. 

IDA. 


8 


HE  is  a  woman,  bright  and  trim. 
Of  five  and  twenty  years, 
Who  trips  along  with  pleasure 
And  spends  her  smiles  for  tear's. 


Her  hair  retains  its  raven  hue, 
Her  sparkling  eye  its  fire; 

But  her  heart  is  sad,  discordant. 
A  strung,  but  tuneless  lyre. 

For  she  staked  her  all  on  conquest 

Of  the  voluptuous  host. 
With  society's  devotees 

Bet  high,  played  long  and  lost. 

She's  wiser  now  than  yesterday, 
At  last  she  spurns  the  dream 

That  women  were  made  for  pleasure, 
And  men  are  what  thev  seem. 


104 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


,    NUPTIAL  TIES. 

1HAVE  my  depressions.    I  suppose  you  have  yours? 
In  short,  my  clear  reader,  they  are  the  common 
possession  of  man-kind.     Activity  is  the  soul  of 
depression.   Who  can  escape  the  peculiar  sensation 
bundled  up  in  the  afterthought?     The  thing  grows  on 
you,  or  rather  on  me,  in  this  way. 

You  go  out  in  the  morning,  full  of  hope,  vigor  and 
courage;  you  i3ush  your  business  till  success  bubbles  up 
around  you  like  an  artesian  well;  you  look  up  and  see 
Fame  sitting  on  the  rim  of  the  clouds,  tooting  a  horn, 
and  looking  down;  you  see  Popularity  elbowing  your 
vanished  rival  from  the  crowded  thoroughfare;  the  day 
is  done,  and  the  victory  won. 

Now  you  make  your  way  home  through  the  cheering 
crowds,  and  slip  in  through  the  back  gate,  to  avoid  the 
pressing  thousands  who  stand  around  eager  to  doff  their 
hats  to  the  victor.  You  reach  your  inner  chamber,  pull 
off  your  gloves,  your  hat  and  great  coat;  thrust  your  feet 
into  soft  slippers  and  begin  to  thaw  your  fingers;  when 
suddenly  the  afterthought  comes  home.  You  have  for- 
gotten your  friends.  You  rush  to  the  window  to  ac- 
knowledge your  thanks — the  applauding  millions  are  no 
more — they  are  gone. 

Now  you  know  how  the  other  fellow  felt,  and  feels, 
because  their  paeans  of  joy  make  the  night  hidious  with 
his  praise.  Ah  me!  the  i30ssession  of  fame  is  so  uncer- 
tain that  a  man  cannot  stop  to  warm  his  fingers,  how- 
ever much  they  freeze. 

Oh,  yes!  I  remember:  you  asked  me  about  Nuptials; 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIEE  IN  DIXIE. 


105 


and  I  have  gone  off  on  depressions,  But  yon  know  that 
is  ever  the  resnlt  of  nnx^tials,  They  always  resolve  them- 
Sflves  into  dei^ressions. 

Before  I  begin  the  discourse.  I  wish  to  say  that  I  am 
a  liachelor  of  seventy  serene  snmmers.  Summers  serene, 
hecanse  they  are  things  of  the  past. 

Since  the  day  of  my  first  love  affair.  I  have  refrained 
from  thono'hts  of  this  nature,  that  I  mio'ht  escape  the 
memory-  of  so  blank  a  failure. 

I  blush  as  I  confess  to  you  my  io-norance  of  wedded 
life,  and  the  necessary  requisites  for|a  hax3py  home,  How- 
ever, for  such  a  condition.  I  think  this  a  crood  receipt: 
labor,  confidence,  fortitude,  economy,  thrift  and  love, 
mixed  with  content,  and  taken  in  the  order  named. 

"Who  are  proper  x^ersons  to  bear  the  burden  of  mar- 
ried life":"  To  this  I  answer:  all  XDersons  who  are  over 
the  age  of  twenty-one  years,  soimd  in  body  and  mind, 
economic  by  nature,  and  in  full  control  of  their  tem^Ders 
and  tonorues.  This,  however,  is  but  a  mere  sug2"estion, 
I  cannot  x^ersuade  myself  to  say  more,  because  I  am 
aware  that  seventy  yt-ars  of  celebacy  unfit  one  for  judg- 
ment in  such  matters.  I  can  do  but  this:  relate  my  ob- 
seiwation.  Listen,  and  I  will  tell  you  what  I  caueht  in 
passing. 

Cienerally.  x)eox3le  are  careless  about  whom  they  marry : 
and  more  careless  aloout  what  they  should  do  with  them- 
selves after  the  honeymoon.  Long  after  that  delia-htful 
period  has  bet*n  transferred  to  the  column  of  vain  re- 
grets. I  have  heard  many  sadly  solilocjuizina-  on  "what 
might  have  been." 

To  illustrate:  one  is  naturally  cax^tivated  by  a  fair 
face,  raven  hair,  dark  eyes.  bewLtchincr  features,  a  beauti- 
fully taxDeiing  and  roimded  form,  a  few  frills,  fioimces. 

Dixie— S 


106 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


furbelows,  and  other  things  which  dazzle,  and  proposes, 
is  accepted  and  strikes  a  bad  bargain  for  life. 

Beware  of  beautiful  women;  they  make  poor  wives 
and  worse  mothers.  There  are  few  exceptions  to  this 
rule ;  especially  is  this  the  case  when  they  worship  at  the 
shrine  of  fashion,  with  "Society"  as  the  goddess. 

A  collegiate  education,  vast  and  varied  accomplish- 
ments in  music,  decorative  art,  and  the  sciences,  have 
some  points  in  their  favor ;  but  she  who  has  an  academic 
training,  is  a  tidy  housekeeper  and  a  good  cook,  is  far  more 
preferable;  and  if  you  can  find,  added  to  these  qualities, 
a  soft  temper,  chastity  and  frugality,  you  have  found  a 
jewel  whose  value  cannot  be  estimated. 

I  have  such  a  woman  in  my  mind's  eye;  she  pre- 
sided over  the  home  of  my  friend  Coatland  years  ago. 
His  was  a  home  of  happiness,  comfort  and  ease.  I  do 
not  mean  that  he  had  a  palatial  dwelling,  broad  and  fer- 
tile acres,  fine  horses  carriages  and  princely  companions, 
endless  treasures  and  such  things;  for  in  such  a  home 
happiness  is  rarely,  if  ever,  found. 

Out  on  the  high  road  that  leads  from  Greorge  Town, 

a  suburb  of  V  ,  there  stands  a  small  old  fashioned 

log  cabin;  modernized,  it  is  true,  by  a  new  brick  chimney, 
a  few  glass  windows  and  a  front  gallery.  In  all  other 
respects  it  is  the  same  today  as  when  I  first  knew  it  fifty 
years  ago.  There  the  green  lawn  slopes  down  to  the 
road;  and  there  still  are  the  white-washed  walls,  fences, 
stables,  cribs  and  other  houses,  as  bright  and  cheerful  as 
lime  and  brush  can  make  them. 

At  the  east  window  the  sunbeams  struggle  through 
sweet-scented  honeysuckles  into  the  room  beyond,where 
for  fifty  years,  Ruth  met  the  morning,  with  brush,  broom 
and  tidiness,  polishing  her  walls,  floors  and  furniture; 


SKETCHES  EEOM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


107 


kneading  her  bread  and  doing  a  thousand  other  things 
common  to  housekee23ing.  In  her  well  kept  garden  the 
lilac,  cape  jasimine,  cherry  pies,  roses  and  other  flowers 
kept  the  place  perfumed. 

Her  husband  found  in  her  a  companion,  wife  and 
friend  who  was  sincere  in  her  affecti@ns.  She  loved  him 
and  found  that  sentiment  returned  a  thousand  fold.  They 
were  industrious  and  frugal — happy  in  their  ignorance 
of  the  stock  exchange,  where  fortunes  are  made  and  lost 
in  a  day. 

All  things  earthly  must  fail:  the  good  prematurely. 
My  friends  enjoy  their  reward.  It  is  impossible  to  de- 
scribe the  death  of  the  supremely  good:  that  is.  those  to 
whom  Ciod  imx3uteth  ris:hteousness.  They  meet  their 
end  in  peace  with  their  fellows:  and.  with  the  approval 
of  their  God,  they  pass  away  in  a  halo  of  glory.  Peace 
be  to  their  ashes! 

On  their  death  bed  they  handed  me  their  will.  It 
reads  as  follows: 

To  irJiom  it  may  concern:  This  is  our  last  will  and  testament. 
Our  spirits  we  commend  to  our  Maker,  God,  who  g-ave  them,  All 
our  earthly  goods  and  property  of  every  kind  and  nature,  we  give 
to  our  two  sons,  Carl  and  Eugene,  in  equal  parts,  except  a  small 
donation  we  have  given  to  our  old  friend,  George  Leland,  who  is 
made  the  executor  of  this,  our  last  will  without  bond. 

In  testimony  whereof  we  hereto  affix  our  signatures  this  the 
10th  day  of  March,  1S80.  Thomas  Coatland,  [seal] 

Ruth  Coatlaxd.  [seal] 

Among  their  papers  I  found  a  letter  addressed  to  me, 
in  which  were  placed  my  instructions  and  one  thousand 
dollars  in  U.  S.  bonds,  the  donation  to  me,  and  a  letter 
to  Carl  and  Eugene;  which,  excepting  the  introduction, 
reads  as  follows: 

"My  Dear  Children  :    It  is  not  expected  that  we,  after  seventy 


108 


SKETCHES  FKOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


years  of  activity  in  the  affairs  of  life,  should  survive  a  great  while 
longer.  I  wish  before  I  am  gone  to  again  impress  you  with  the 
course  in  life  I  think  proper  for  you, 

"Fifty  years  ago  I  married  Ruth,  your  mother,  during  which 
time  we  have  occupied  this  little  home.  Here,  aided  by  thrift, 
content  and  economy  we  have  found  happiness,  comfort  and  ease. 
I  can  wish  you  no  greater  felicity  than  virtuous,  frugal  and  indus- 
trious wives;  and  a  home  such  as  the  one  in  which  you  were 
reared.  You  do  not  need  a  mansion,  because  it  requires  a  fortune 
to  keep  it ;  and  when  it  is  well  kept,  the  covetousness  of  your  friends 
and  acquaintances  is  excited.  Be  careful :  he  who  displays  his 
treasures  invites  the  robber. 

"We  leave  about  twenty  thousand  dollars,  which  we  believe 
you  will  fully  appreciate  and  judiciously  invest.  This  sum,  the 
fruit  of  our  economy,  is  the  savings  of  many  years.  Take  it,  and 
be  admonished  thereby  that  fortunes  are  not  honestly  made  in  a 
day,  nor  in  many  years;  but  that  rigid  economy  and  vigilant  in- 
dustry will  relieve  you  of  that  terror  known  to  nine-tenths  of  man- 
kind— hard  times. 

"Beware  of  debt;  he  who  is  in  debt  is  but  half  a  man,  and  his 
independ3nce  is  dethroned.  There  is  no  niasterso  exacting  as  the 
money  lender.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  he  is  a  bad  man,  for 
that  is  not  always  the  case.  In  many  respects  he  is  the  best  of 
men;  especially  is  this  the  case  when  he  counts  out  his  cold  cash 
to  the  unfortunate  who  goes  about  borrowing;  and  not  until  the 
day  of  payment  do  they  reverse  themselves. 

"From  the  day  you  mortgage  your  property  till  the  time  of  the 
foreclosure  of  it,  there  is  not  a  day  in  which  your  ability  to  pay  is 
not  becoming  less .  I  cannot  explain  why  it  is  so;  but  few  men 
pay  off  a  mortgage.  When  you  have  put  by  a  competency  sufficient 
to  carry  you  over  those  depressions  commonly  called  hard  times, 
you  can  afford  to  indulge  in  those  little  extravagances  which  the 
simple  call  generosity,  but  which  the  want  of  many  a  stranded 
home  defines  as  crime.  The  temptation  to  extravagance  is  great; 
but  you  must  not  yield  when  that  enemy  to  your  peace  of  mind 
comes,  as  come  it  will. 

"Look  upon  the  poor  and  miserable  of  your  acquaintance, 
who  go  about  the  streets  pawning  their  raiment  for  bread,  and  re- 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


109 


member  that  nine-tenths  of  them  heeded  not  the  voice  of  Econ- 
omy, but  followed  Extravagance. 

"He  who  squanders  his  earnings  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure, 
shall  find  after  the  reverie  the  confusion  of  its  adherents.  Spend 
your  nights  with  your  families,  your  days  in  honest  toil,  and  you 
will  find  old  age  invested  in  a  halo  of  ease,  for  which  the  nabobs 
of  earth,  those  whose  souls  have  been  singed  by  the  fires  of  volup- 
tuousness, would  exchange  the  wealth  of  the  Indies. 

"Be  not  deceived  by  the  glare  of  great  riches;  it  may  be  best 
for  you  that  you  are  poor.  Like  the  moths  which  wreck  themselves 
on  your  mother's  lamp,  many  a  poor  fellow  has  lost  his  soul  in  the 
vain  effort  to  become  rich.  After  all,  that  scathing  satire  on  the 
affairs  of  men,  the  shroud  is  the  sum  total  of  all  our  wealth. 
Riches  and  happiness  are  by  no  means  companions  ;  the  one  means 
to  its  possessor  great  anxiety,  worry,  cares,  restless  evenings  and 
sleepless  nights;  the  other  is  often  found  in  a  hovel,  sustained  and 
soothed  by  the  virtues  of  content.  Poverty  and  riches  both  have 
g"reat  calamities,  when  content  is  absent;  then  their  extremes 
move  together  in  the  mire  of  distress,  and  urge  their  patrons  along 
the  common  way,  to  the  banquet  hall  of  worms.    Envy  them  not. 

"Be  true  to  your  God,  you  country,  yourselves  and  your  friends ; 
upright  and  just  in  your  dealings  with  men;  and  strive  to  secure  a 
middle  station  between  poverty  and  wealth;  and  remember  your 
father  and  mother. 

"I  am  as  ever  yours  devotedly,  Thomas  Coatland." 

I  have  given  yon  my  friencVs  letter  verbatim,  because 
I  believe  lie  is  right.  That  his  letter  meets  your  ap- 
proval I  doubt  not.  It  comes  nearer  answering  you  than 
anything  of  which  I  could  have  thought. 

I  have  seen  some  of  the  phases  of  life  myself,  although 
in  a  different  light,  and  from  a  different  xDoint  of  view 
than'  my  friend's;  yet  I  believe  the  result  the  same. 

Unlike  my  friend,  I  have  followed  pleasure  where  she 
has  been  i^leased  to  lead;  under  the  brilliant  glare  of  the 
chandelier,where  wit,  beauty  and  loveliness  moved  intox- 
icated with  the  volumptuous  swell  of  rare  and  exquisite 
music,  admired  by  the  timid,  courted  by  the  brave,  and 


110 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


won  by  the  gallant.  I  have  been  entertained  by  all  that 
is  fair,  sweet,  brilliant,  charming  and  graceful  in  women 
and  fraternal  in  men;  in  beautifully  decorated  parlors 
and  rare  and  brilliant  saloons,  where  wealth,  skill  and 
art  left  the  foot  prints  of  the  embellisher.  In  fact,  I  have 
tasted  every  flower  in  the  garden  of  pleasure,  and  know 
of  a  truth  that  a  man  gets  very  little  of  this  world's 
goods  beyond  what  he  eats,  drinks  and  wears. 

If  I  had  married  Evylin  in  the  days  of  my  youth, 
perhaps  she  would  not  have  found  an  early  grave,  nor  I 
a  remorseful  old  age  with  Coatland's  donation  as  its  only 
stay. 

This  is  why,  no  doubt,  my  old  friend  Coatland  and  his 
happy  home  come  before  me  now,  as  they  ever  do  when 
I  am  in  a  serious  humor,  for  his  was  the  most  happy  of 
the  few  happy  homes  I  remember  having  seen.  And 
now,  after  seventy  years  spent  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure, 
I  find  myself  reverting  to  those  sublime  lines  of  Robert 
Burns : 

**Still  o'er  these  scenes  my  memory  wakes, 

And  fondly  broods  with  miser  care, 
Time  but  the  impression  deeper  makes. 

As  streams  their  channels  deeper  wear." 

Yes,  if  I  were  you  I  would  marry  a  good  woman,  and 
build  a  home;  for  around  that  hearth  where  the  chastity 
of  woman  presides  is  gathered  what  little  there  is  of 
happiness  on  earth. 

I  would  build  it,  not  in  the  city  nor  too  remote  from 
it;  but  near  its  suburbs,  that  I  might  escape  its  burden- 
some taxation,  its  pestilence,  its  poverty  and  its  many 
vices,  and  secure  easy  access  to  its  advantage. 


SKETCHES  FKOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


THE  GOLDEN  ROD. 


,HERE  is  a  calm  and  solemn  air 


By  rushing  stream,  and  everywhere 


The  sear  and  yellow  leaf^s  aglow. 

The  foliage  is  growing  old; 

All  through  the  verdure  gleams  the  gold ; 

The  rose  is  turning  into  mold; 

But  golden  rod  stands  everywhere. 

0"er  the  lea  and  across  the  mead. 
And  far  away  where  the  cattle  feed, 
There  blows  the  yellow  crested  reed, 
The  autumnal  queen  of  flowers. 

Its  golden  crown  along  the  way. 
Sways  back  and  forth,  and  seems  to  say, 
"I  am  fair  Flora's  Queen  today. 
And  the  wind's  my  messenger  boy. 

"And  further  on  the  wind's  low  wail 
Proclaims  my  reign  along  the  dale. 
Till  the  tired  harvester  droj)S  his  flail 
And  hails  me  queen  of  the  flowers." 


Along  the  road,  by  garden  fair. 


SKETCHES  FKOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


YELLOW  JACK  OF  '97. 


ITH  a  shudder  still  I  remember 


Of  the  "Times-Democrat." 

Also  the  "Daily  Picayune" 

Made  the  dreaded  tidings  known; 

The  paper  venders  caught  the  tune 
And  heralded  it  around  the  town. 

"Here's  your  'Daily  Picayune,' " 
And  "Here's  your  'Times-Democrat!" 

"Paper,  sir,  'Daily  Picayune,' 
All  about  the  Yellow  Jack!" 

"At^Ocean  Springs  and  Scranton,  sir, 

Biloxi  and  ev'rywhere 
Along  the  coast — 'Picayune,'  sir? 

All  about  the  fever  there! 

"There  'tis,  sir!  a  catastrophe. 

Strikes  our  business  interest  square, 

And  leaves  us  a  wreck  in  mid  sea. 
With  fever  and  despair." 

"If  it's  fever,  it's  dengue. 

Or  malaria  from  lack 
Of  cleanliness,  in  a  few 
Coast  towns.    It's  not  Yellow  Jack," 


The  alarm  of  Yellow  Jack: 
Sent  out  in  the  daily  number. 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


113 


Said  all  the  doctors,  looking  wise. 

But  the  restless  feeling  grew, 
And  all  the  people,  with  glaring  eyes,  - 

And  ashen  lips,  said  "It's  true!'' 

From  the  start  business  stopped,  congealed, 
And  strong  men  gathered  the  crowd 

About  the  public  streets,  to  feel 
The  business  pulse,  sigh  aloud; 

And  then  to  troop  it  out  of  town :  . 

For  their  fancy  paints  so  well. 
Until  it  kinder  brings  them  down, 

To  unwholesome  views  of  (  )  Well— 

You  understand;  roasting  scenes  in  that 
Sultry  country  where  the  swell 

Epidemic  fiend,  grim  Yellow  Jack, 
The  conductor  acts  so  well. 

You  talk  of  being  panic  struck, 

Routed  friend  and  all  of  that ; 
You  should  see  the  bulletin  stuck 

To  the  alarm  of  Yellow  Jack. 

For  yellow  fever  'larms  from  iDress 
And  newsboys,  can  clear  the  earth 

With  inflated  yells  of  distress 

In  twenty  minutes  without  death. 

And  then  the  faithful  few,  who  stand 

At  duty's  post;  because 
They  cannot  escape,  understand, 

Prohibitory  laws. 


114 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


They  quarantine  the  empty  void 

With  a  mailed  guard  so  well, 
That  'twould  terrorize  the  alloid 

Visage  of  the  host  of  Hell. 

Then  gnaws  the  formidable  thought, 
Quarantined  away  from  home: 

This  experience  so  dearly  bought, 
So  vividly  i^aints  our  own: 

Till  we  see  the  ghost  of  all  our  hopes 
Floating  down  the  yellow  stream; 

Our  empty  homes  along  the  copse 
And  grim  Yellow  Jack  between. 

And  hear  the  stroke  of  the  sturdy  oar, 

The  surge  of  the  awful  wave ; 
As  Yellow  Jack  trips  our  loved  ones  o'er — 

The  druggist  into  the  grave. 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE 


115 


YOUTH  S  HOME  AND  MOTHER. 

DOWN  the  lono-  flig-ht  of  years, 
With  the  fleet  sweep  of  timej 
Our  memory  still  bears 
On  the  one  place  sublime, 
Of  all  that  earth  holds  of  joy  and  of  mirth. 
And  that  place,  friend,  is  the  place  of  our  birth. 

The  .Q:ay  may  dazzle  the  eye, 

'For  a  time  bricrhtly  blaze 
Then  dimly  burn  and  die; 

Then  ^tis  we  fix  and  gaze 
On  all  that  earth  holds  of  joy  and  of  mirth, 
Down  the  dim  vista  ways  of  long  ago. 

Friendshij)  may  fail  and  fly 

Off  by  night  and  our  joy. 
With  the  breath  of  morning  die: 

Naught  be  ours  but  alloy. 
And  all  that  earth  holds  of  joy  and  of  mirth. 
Youth's  home  and  mother  and  her  sterling  worth 

Deep  as  is  the  ocean's  brine. 

Love  will  trace  her  epitaph, 
Along  the  strand  of  time; 

Where  stands  the  biograph 
Of  all  the  nation's  worth,  its  cares  and  mirth 
In  mother's  love,  and  faith,  and  works,  and  home. 

These  will  blaze,  l)urn  and  glow 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 

Until  the  end  of  time; 
Till  again  we  meet,  and  know 

Our  parting  was  sublime! 
Till  we  meet  and  know,  where  the  ransomed 
Up  the  endless  aisles  of  paradise. 

INNOCENCE  ASLEEP. 

A FAIR  dark-eyed  lassie  was  she. 
Her  thirteenth  summer  passed, 
Who  pursuing  blue-eyed  daisy. 
Herself  had  over- tasked; 
And  fell  asleep  in  the  meadow. 
Where  the  wildest  flowers  blow. 
I  read  the  dreams  upon  her  face. 

Through  dimples  hi  her  cheek. 
And  smiles  which  trace  the  subtle  grace 
Of  innocence  asleep. 

"1  was  dreaming,"  she  made  reply, 

A  blush  her  whole  physique. 
When  my  kerchief  fell  upon  the  fly 

That  lit  upon  her  cheek; 
Hard  by  the  laughing  brooklet's  sheen 
Caught  the  poise  of  her  face  between, 
Demurring  pout  and  sly  grimace. 

Through  her  dishelved  hair; 

As  she  stood  there  an  angel  fair 
With  innocence  awake. 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


117 


THE  RAPE  OF  THE  FLOWERS. 

VAILS,  wails,  wails. 
The  wind  from  its  ice  bound  thrones; 
Along  the  path  it  trails, 
And  whistles  and  roams 
Across  the  gray  old  fields. 

Sweeps,  sweeps,  sweeps, 

Together  the  falling  leaves, 

And  up  the  hillside  leaps 

Through  the  naked  trees; 

There  shrieks,  and  roars,  and  storms; 

And  shakes,  shakes,  shakes 

His  mantle  that  holds  the  snows 

Till  the  mute  and  silent  flake. 

Its  purity  throws  .:- 

O'er  all  the  dreary  earth. 

Then  drives  along  the  rain, 
The  cold  benumbing  rain ; 
Across  the  dreary  xDlain, 
Blows  the  hurricane 
And  freezes  o'er  the  snow. 

Till  all  is  hard,  cold  ice, 

Transparent,  luminous  ice. 

Whose  dumb  but  stern  device 

The  rivers  entice  ^  , 

To  stand  at  last  congealed. 


118  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 

Weeping  now  the  angels  go, 
Since  Winter's  seductive  hand 
Polluted  lovely  Flo, 
And  his  grim  command 
Her  nectary  fills  with  ice. 

At  the  kiss  of  hoar  frost, 
The  radiant  angel  swooned. 
Of  dire  grief  died,  and  lost 
Her  beautiful  bloom — 
Her  rare  ethereal  bloom. 

TO  A  FLOWER  ON  A  CORPSE. 

aH,  thou  beautiful  embellishment  of  earth, 
By  dew,  and  rain,  and  dutiful  spring  hurled, 
A  thing  of  loveliness,  into  this  world 
Of  woe,  and  discord,  and  the  cruel  dearth 
Tha-^  blights  our  desires,  and  turns  our  hearth 

Into  a  charnel  house;  nor  king,  nor  earl, 
Nor  wit,  can  provoke  the  sad  heart  to  mirth, 

Where  our  hopes  all  end  and  our  colors  furl. 
Fit  emblem  of  man's  transient  stage  art  thou; 

This  morn  beheld  thee  delightfully  fair. 
Full  of  fragrance,  pleasingly  sweet;  but  now, 
This  eve,  thy  withered  form  sleeps  on  the  prow 
Of  that  barque  grim  Death  is  launching  out  there, 
In  the  omnivorous  sea  of  dispair. 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


119 


A  MANGLED  REFLECTION. 

VHEJ^  my  reflection  swings  back  to  that  delight- 
ful period  known  as  the  honeymoon,  I  am  forced 
to  the  painful  conclusion  that  connubial  attach- 
ments are  not  what  they  seem.  That  you  may 
better  understand  me  I  wish  to  enumerate  a  few  phases 
of  my  experience.  December  24th,  1892,  I  married  Ma- 
licia  Ann  Dupont.  The  grace  of  her  angelic  form,  and 
the  buoyancy  of  her  noble  soul  made  her  the  rarest  ob- 
ject of  loveliness  I  ever  saw. 

Under  the  bewitchery  of  her  elegance  our  honeymoon 
was  prolonged  into  a  full  luna  year.  Then  there  came  a 
change,  and  I  was  left  face  to  face  with  the  stern  fact 
that  love  begets  other  things  than  haiDi3iness. 

About  this  time  there  was  born  unto  us  a  son,  and 
my  heart  went  out  to  him  with  all  the  fervency  of  par- 
ental affection.  The  child  grew,  and  his  features  took 
on  my  likeness;  and  when  he  began  to  i3rattle  and  call 
me  father,  I  felt  exceedingly  manly;  especially  so  when 
Fancy  told  me  I  had  a  new  joy.  At  this  time  I  prided 
myself  on  the  high  regard  I  had  for  the  rights  of  others ; 
and,  true  to  this  trait  in  my  character,  I  heeded  not  the 
growing  attachment  between  my  wife  and  my  old  college 
friend,  Samuel  Michaeljohn.  Malicia  is  of  a  witty  and 
lively  disposition  and  socially  inclined;  and  I  am  sedate 
and  somewhat  of  a  melancholy  turn  of  mind ;  this  is  why, 
I  su^Dpose.  I  spent  my  evenings  at  home,  while  she  sought 
happiness  in  the  halls  of  pleasure.  Up  to  this  time  there 
was  not  a  discordant  sound  in  our  Eden  of  joy.  But 
alas!  too  soon  I  found  that  Joy  and  Grief  both  marshal 


120 


SKETCHES  FKOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


their  strength  in  the  human  heart,  with  only  a  step  be- 
tween the  bivouac  of  their  forces. 

Michaeljohn  was  staying  with  us  at  the  time,  and 
used  to  accompany  my  wife  on  her  delightful  excursions. 
After  this  had  been  going  on  for  a  long  time,  I  had  a 
sudden  and  serious  awakening.  My  imagination,  urged 
on  by  jealousy,  saw  strange  things  in  the  conduct  of  my 
wife  and  friend.  They  seemed  lost  in  the  mutuality  of 
their  attachment.  My  son,  losing  his  health,  became  ill, 
crabbed  and  colicky.  My  neighbor's  cat  prowled  about 
my  house  and  made  the  evenings  hideous  with  its  squal- 
ling. Decidedly  a  change  set  in  for  the  worst,  and  I 
was  ill  at  ease. 

"None  of  these  things  would  have  moved  you?" 

Ah  my  friend !  If  you  think  that  you  are  deceived  by 
your  own  heart.  At  any  rate,  I  am  persuaded  that  if 
you  knew  what  I  know,  you  would  agree  with  me  that 
the  joys  of  wedded  life  are'"  casual. 

My  troubles  reached  an  acute  stage  on  the  night  of 
my  awakening.  As  usual  the  infatuated  couple  were  at- 
tending one  of  their  innumerable  entertainments ;  on  this 
occasion  it  was  a  masquerade  ball.  About  eleven  o'clock 
that  night  the  baby  had  one  of  its  usual  attacks  of  the 
colic,  which  was  more  aggravated  than  ever  before,  and 
would  not  yield  to  my  efforts  to  arrest  its  course,  although 
I  used  every  drug  known  to  domestic  medicine.  Vein 
endeavor!  the  child  grew  rapidly  worse.  Alarmed  at  the 
progress  of  his  sickness,  I  went  to  the  telephone  and 
rang  hard  and  strenuously  for  the  family  physician.  ''He 
is  out.  Has  been  for  an  hour.  Expect  him  every  min- 
ute. Will  send  him  over  as  soon  as  he  comes,"  were  the 
disappointing  words  which  came  over  the  wires. 

Poor,  stricken  child!    Tortured  and  agonized  with 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


121 


the  deadly  cramp  in  liis  bowels,  liis  cries  appealed  im- 
plorinu-ly  to  me.  With  a  struck  heart  and  a  throbbing 
brain  I  raised  him  again  in  my  arms,  and  paused  a  mo- 
ment, listening  to  the  noise  of  a  footfall  on  the  pavement, 
vainly  hoping  it  might  be  the  doctor,  or  the  homecoming 
of  Malicia  Ann;  but  it  passed,  echoing  in  the  silent  night. 

Again  I  began  to  walk  the  floor  with  him,  and  with 
my  cracked  voice  tried  to  warble  a  lullaby.  I  thought  I 
had  succeeded  when  a  bright  smile  ran  playfully  about 
his  mouth,  and  lit  up  his  countenance  with  a  light  I 
never  saw  there  before.  Vain  belief!  The  next  moment 
he  turned  his  glazed  eyes  up  into  mine,  cried  •'Father!'' 
and  fell  over  on  my  breast  a  corpse!  The  light  of  my 
soul  was  darkened  and  its  joy  slain.  I  laid  the  corpse  on 
the  bed,  and  with  it  my  heart,  and  walked  out  on  the 
back  porch  to  give  my  grief  full  scope.  There  was  an 
emptiness  in  my  bosom,  and  a  great  lump  in  my  throat, 
a  burning  liquid  was  scalding  my  eyes  and  my  mind  was 
wandering:  need  I  tell  you  that  I  wept  aloud V  There 
was  no  moon,  but  every  star  of  the  firmament  was  out; 
with  their  infinite  l)eings  joyous  in  the  felicity  of  the 
omnipotent  God;  while  I.  poor  worm  of  the  dust, 
was  groping  in  the  dark,  with  baby's  last  audible 
sound  ringing  in  my  ears.  Was  it  a  wail,  or  an  exclam- 
ation of  joy?  In  quest  of  this  thought  my  hope  mounted 
upward  till  faith  unbarred  the  gates  of  Heaven,  and  I 
saw  the  merciful  Christ  wiping  the  tears  from  baby's 
eyes;  and  heard  the  angels  chanting  to  him  the  lulla- 
bies of  heaven.  My  eyes  were  moist  no  longer,  my  soul  was 
relighted,  and  I  felt  a  sustaining  infiuence  in  my  heart 
from  the  moment  my  faith  caught  hold  of  Him  who 
doeth  all  things  well.  I  returned  to  the  silent  chamber, 
and  waited  for  Malicia  Ann. 

Dixie-8 


122 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


Sitting  there  alone  my  thoughts  naturally  turned  to 
her;  bright,  gay  and  cheerful,  pleasure's  reign  so  long 
absolute  in  her  heart,  now  to  be  shattered  by  the  relent- 
less hand  of  fate,  and  remorseless  grief  enthroned — how 
should  I  break  the  sad  intelligence  to  her?  In  the  midst 
of  my  solitude  I  heard  her  at  the  gate,  bidding  a  merry 
good  night  to  her  gay  associates.  I  met  her  at  the  door. 
She  was  a  lovable  and  playful  woman,  and,  as  she  always 
does,  she  threw  her  arms  around  my  neck,  and  hung 
upon  my  person  looking,  in  her  white  robes,  like  a  ser- 
aphim; and  begun  to  tell  me  of  her  enjoyable  evening, 
when  the  lamp  light  fell  upon  my  face.  Its  haggard  as- 
pect appalled  her.  She  recoiled  and  cried,  "O  George! 
what  has  happened?''  I  took  her  by  the  hand,  with  the 
unrestrained  tears  coursing  down  my  cheeks,  and  stam- 
mered, "Baby's  gone!" 

Wild  with  grief  she  hurried  l)ack  to  where  I  had  lain 
him  and  bent  over  him  with  that  endearing  accent  only 
a  mother  can  utter,  said,  "Charley !'"  and  kissed  him;  but 
there  was  no  responsive  pressure  from  the  lips  of  cold 
clay  before  us.  She  raised  her  dark  eyes  staringly  to 
mine,  and  with  the  agony  of  despair  cried,  "Give  me 
back  my  baby!'"  pulled  her  hair,  rent  her  clothing  and 
fell  to  the  floor  insane  of  grief.  We  helped  her  to  a  sofa 
and  ministered  to  her  the  best  we  could;  but  her  grief 
was  of  that  violent  nature  which  escapes  only  through 
the  relief  of  tears,  and  we  could  not  appease  her. 

About  four  o'clock  the  next  day  all  that  was  mortal 
of  our  little  Charley,  was  gathered  to  its  long  home,  and 
a  slab  marked  its  repose. 

The  events  of  a  day  sometimes  change  the  whole 
course  of  our  lives,  but  they  never  change  our  characters. 
It  is  as  imi^ossible  to  confine  a  buoyant  and  lively  spirit 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE, 


123 


with  crape  and  mourniiit:  as  it  is  to  destroy  the  l)eauty 
of  a  suiiheaiii  when  it  disperses  itself  in  a  shower  of  rain. 

We  are  what  we  are.  in  spite  of  ourselves;  and.  like 
the  eirclinu'  of  the  seasons  throu^ii  the  succeeding-  years, 
we  pass  on.  guided,  perhaps,  by  the  unseen  Hand  that 
holds  the  rivers  in  their  courses  and  fixes  the  hounds  of 
the  sea. 

Time  passed,  and  we  naturally  drifted  hack  into  our 
(jld  haVnts.  Michaeljohn  and  Malicia  Ann  renewed  their 
former  relations,  and  I  spent  my  evening's  at  home  l)rood- 
ing-  over  imaginary  evils:  or  in  roaming  al)out  the  coun- 
try mourning  the  absence  of  my  son:  and — I  am  ashamed 
t(j  say  it.  ljut  it  is  true— accusing  Malicia  of  his  death. 
How  could  I  do  otherwise  under  the  circumstances? 

I  remember  one  bright  morning  in  the  spring  of  a 
vanished  year,  I  went  out  for  a  long  walk  over  the  coun- 
try, The  first  two  or  three  h(jurs  of  my  journey, 
were  calm,  briu'lit  and  delightful.  The  yellow 
rays  of  the  morning  sun  illumined  the  earth  with  a 
soft  mellow  light:  tlirouu'h  wliicdi  the  south  wind  flitted 
with  an  invigorating  coolness.  Buzzi]ig  bees,  singing 
birds,  and  the  tinkling  l^ells  of  the  herds  eidivened  the 
landscape  which,  pregnant  with  the  odor  of  new  blown 
flowers,  stretched  out  undulatingly  before  me.  I  strolled 
on,  delighted  with  the  varigated  beauty  of  the  rural 
scenes,  till  somewhat  fatigued  I  x^assed  down  a  declivity 
and  found  a  spring  and  a  plot  of  green  earth.  Here  I 
stooped  to  quench  my  thirst  and  sat  under  the  trees  to 
rest.  The  majestic  sun  clind)ed  up  the  deep  blue  of  the 
heavens  and  filled  the  earth  with  his  white  light, 
and  in  the  distance  a  windinu'  horn  reminded  me  of  the 
farmer's  nooning.  Then  a  horse  neighed:  and.  looking 
up.  I  saw  several  weary  and  travel-worn  horses  feeding 


124 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


on  the  green,  and  further  on  two  or  three  covered  wag- 
ons, which  I  recognized  at  once  to  be  the  property  of 
that  wandering  tribe  known  as  Gypsies.  In  a  short 
while  a  dark-eyed  woman,  about  thirty  years  of  age, 
came  to  the  spring  for  water.  She  passed  close  to  me, 
and  began  a  conversation,  in  the  course  of  which  she  said 
in  a  sweet  musical  way,  "Something  troubles  you,  sir. 
Let  me  tell  your  fortune?"  I  held  out  my  hand  and  she 
began  her  revelations,  all  of  which  it  is  useless  to  men- 
tion. It  is  enough  to  say  that  among  other  things  she 
told  me  was:  •'Strange  to  say  there's  a  man  in  your  case. 
He  will  pass  this  way  soon." 

Presently  there  was  the  noise  of  wheels  and  a  horse 
swinging  along  the  highway  in  a  brisk  trot.  The  driver 
reigned  in  the  horse  and  said  in  a  familiar  way,  "Hello, 
George!  Jump  in  and  let's  ride  back  to  the  city."  The 
driver  was  Michael john.  Unconsciously  I  bit  my  finger 
nails;  and  the  coloring  of  my  face  must  have  betrayed 
my  emotions,  for  when  I  rose  to  get  in  the  buggy  the 
dark-eyed  woman  said  in  a  whisper,  "Beware  of  thy 
friend!  This  is  the  man.''  I  threw  her  a  coin  and  we 
rode  off  toward  the  city. 

No  musician  ever  played  upon  a  stringed  instrument 
with  more  skill  than  that  woman  did  upon  my  emotions, 
the  effect  of  which  was  that  jealousy,  long  dormant  in 
my  heart,  now  became  the  ruling  passion  of  my  being; 
against  which  my  reason  rebelled,  and  kept  on  arguing 
that  he  who  sees  not  with  his  own  eyes,  nor  conceives 
with  his  own  mind  is  still  in  the  dark. 

This  argument  so  far  i3revailed  that  I  at  last  made 
up  my  mind  to  know  the  whole  truth;  and  if  my  suspic- 
ions were  well  grounded  to  sever  my  connections  with 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IX  DIXIE. 


125 


Malicia  Ann  forever:  if  tliey  were  not.  then  to  confess 
my  errors  and  forsake  tliem. 

To  this  end  I  organized  a  thoroug-h  system  of  secret 
service  detection,  and  set  spies  over  the  victims  of  my 
susi3icions,  who  reported  to  me  daily.  These  reports, 
together  with  those  of  Madame  Rumor.  Avere  set  in  every 
coloring  known  to  descriptive  discourse.  Imt  that  which 
my  soul  craved  for.  They  neither  alleged  nor  denied  the 
guilt  of  Malicia  Ann:  liut  they  managed  to  keep  me  in  a 
terrible  state  of  confusion  for  aloout  a  year, 

Finally  I  dismissed  my  emissaries  and  went  into  the 
accursed  business  myself,  Then  came  the  pernicious 
affair  of  slipping  into  and  out  of.  through  and  around  my 
own  house,  with  that  lyiixdike  tread  which  cowardice 
lends  to  jealousy:  the  result  of  which  was  a  continuation 
of  the  perplexity  in  which  the  dark-eyed  Gypsy  and  my 
emissaries  had  placed  me.  Thinking  my  plans  were  de- 
tected. I  concocted  a  new  scheme. 

Early  one  morning  I  told  my  wife  T  should  he  out  of 
town  for  several  days,  and  rt^quested  her  to  look  after 
my  mail.  That  afternoon  I.  heavily  disg'uised  as  a  tramp, 
passed  her.  undetected;  on  my  office  steps,  hurried  home 
and  locked  myself  in  the  pantry.  About  eight  o'clock  in 
the  eA'ening  she  came  in.  and  later  Michaeljohn  came. 
After  the  usual  salutation  they  retired  to  their  own  rooms 
for  the  night. 

I  do  not  know  why:  but  it  is  nevertheless  true,  that 
around  everv  act  of  ours  there  is  always  a  clue,  incident 
or  circumstance  which  leads  to  the  disclosure  of  our 
designs,  .however  much  we  may  wish  to  secrete  them. 
They  may  eminate  from  ourselves  or  be  concomitant  with 
the  acts  of  other  persons  or  things,  over  which  we  have 
no  control. 


126 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


It  was  June  23rd,  1894,  and  the  clock  was  on  the 
stroke  of  midnight;  the  sweet  notes  of  Malicia  Ann's 
guitar  died  melodiously  away.  I  knew  the  music  well, 
it  was  the  same  old  air  to  which  I  had  played  the  accom- 
paniment on  my  violin  a  hundred  times,  during  the  first 
year  of  our  nuptials — surely  she  must  be  thinking  of  me; 
instantly  I  turned  my  eyes  in  on  my  own  wicked  heart 
and  began  meditating  a  confession :  when  suddenly  there 
broke  out  in  the  pantry  the  ear-splitting  squall  of  Bill 
Jones'  torn  cat.  I  began  hurriedly  to  unbolt  the  door, 
at  which,  as  soon  as  it  was  ajar,  the  cat  jumioed  and  lit 
squarely  on  my  head  and  entangled  itself  in  my  long- 
hair. In  its  fright  it  began  to  scratch  and  bite  territicly. 
I  threw  up  my  hands  and  caught  it  by  the  fore  feet  and 
neck,  and  ran  abruptly  into  my  wife's  room,  uttering 
exclamations  of  rage  and  terror.  This  terrified  her  and 
she  screamed  awfully. 

Michaeljohn  heard  the  noise,  and  thinking  there  were 
burglars  in  the  house,  came  down  the  stairs  at  a  rapid 
rate.  I  tugged  away  at  the  frantic  thing  on  my  head, 
and  by  the  time  he  reached  the  hall  door  I  had  succeeded 
in  strangling  it,  and  its  crushed  carcass  lay  bleeding  be- 
neath my  heel. 

I  stepped  hurriedly  across  to  the  right  of  the  door, 
which,  if  it  were  open,  would  partially  hide  me  from  view; 
but  not  enough  to  keep  my  whole  jDerson  from  being  re- 
flected by  a  large  mirror  which  hung  against  the  oppos- 
ite wall. 

The  breaking  open  of  the  door  was  but  the  work  of  a 
moment  for  the  enraged  man.  He  entered,  fixed  his  eye 
uiDon  me;  nerved  himself  for  the  awful  deed  and  deliber- 
ately took  his  aim. 

Terrorized  by  the  impending  danger,  I  threw  up  my 


SKETCHES  FEOM  LIFE  IN  DIXIE. 


127 


hands,  and  in  the  ansi'uisli  of  despair  cried.  "Oil  Lord II 
Merciful  God  I  help,  help!  Mike,  are  yoii  goinu'  to  kill 
me":'"  He  recognized  my  voice,  but  it  was  too  late. 
There  was  a  flash  of  fire,  a  puff  of  smoke  and  all  was 
over,  The  hall  went  crashing  thruugh  the  mirror,  I  was 
unhurt:  but  my  reflection  was  terribly  mankind:  for  it 
was  at  this  Michaeljohn  took  his  aim, 

The  excitement  subsided  and  Malicia  Ann  ( God  bless 
her  I)  dressed  the  Avounds  made  by  the  cat.  After  which 
I  made  a  strai^'ht  forward  and  upt-n  confession  of  the 
guilt  of  my  misgivings:  of  which  this  narration  is  but 
an  extract.  Such  were  the  occurrences  which  happened 
in  the  home  of  David  Overhead,  as  told  me  by  David 
himself. 


Finale. 


